


Tempest

by LovelyVillain



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, Harry Potter and the Cursed Child - Thorne & Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Alternate Universe - Future, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Auror Harry Potter, Auror Teddy Lupin, Drug Abuse, Drug Addiction, Drug Use, F/F, F/M, Future Fic, HP: Epilogue Compliant, Harry Potter Next Generation, Hogwarts, Implied/Referenced Child Abuse, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Implied/Referenced Torture, M/M, Minister for Magic Hermione Granger, Ministry of Magic, Next Generation, Next-Gen, Past Hermione Granger/Ron Weasley, Past Torture, Recreational Drug Use, Severus Snape Lives, Slytherin Albus Severus Potter, Slytherin Scorpius Malfoy, Time Travel, Time Turner, Torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-04-23
Packaged: 2019-03-18 18:48:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 16
Words: 79,392
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13687632
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LovelyVillain/pseuds/LovelyVillain
Summary: Voldemort has fallen but a sinister force still plagues wizarding society. A seedy underground has emerged just as an illegal potions epidemic sweeps across Europe and a Dark Revival takes root. In the new battle for power no one is left unscathed and the bonds of love, friendship and family are tested like never before.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for checking out my story! I’ll keep this brief, just wanted to warn readers that this story will have violence, language, sexual situations, drug use, mentions of torture and rape and a bunch of other trigger inducing scenes scattered throughout. I don’t like putting trigger warnings before each chapter because as a reader I like to be surprised and feel that warnings spoil the plot to come. So this is my disclaimer for the remainder of the story, please avoid reading if you don’t like such content. 
> 
> Like I said, I don’t like spoilers so I don’t want to reveal too much of the plot. However I can tell you I treat (most of) the epilogue as canon while manipulating other aspects of the books, such as who lives and dies in the Final Battle. Also involves a bit of time travel shenanigans but it’s NOT a TT centric story. Just as it will feature next gen characters but is not exclusively a next gen story. And while it does feature Delphi it does not pull much of anything else from Cursed Child besides her parentage. 
> 
> Finally, this story will have multiple pairings, both het and slash, beyond just those mentioned in the tags. Some will be raging infernos and others slow, steady burns ;) 
> 
> Without further ado, off we go!

**May 2, 1998**   
**Hogwarts Castle**

The final battle raged on throughout the ancient castle Rodolphus had once considered a sanctuary during his youth. As the elder of the two Lestrange heirs he spent the entirety of his adolescence and early adulthood with a golden spoon affixed firmly in his mouth.

However he learned quickly that golden spoons held as much weight as their plastic counterparts when it came to shielding oneself from Dementors. Nothing in his luxurious and easy upbringing could have prepared him for what it meant to become and remain a member of his Dark Lord’s inner circle. And none of the horrors he committed as a Death Eater could have prepared him for the terrors housed within the frozen stonewalls of Azkaban.

The only thing that kept him hanging to his last thread of sanity was his Bella. For reasons he still didn’t fully comprehend the Ministry had allowed him and his wife to share a cell. Normally prisoners were housed separately in cells so narrow it was impossible to lie down without bumping a head or foot on the walls at either end. However he decided early on not to question the one small blessing he was granted in that hell hole and instead focused each day on how fortunate he was to remain close to the only person he ever truly cared for.

Even if that person hated him.

Their relationship was complicated from the first day they met, and after over three decades together he had long ago accepted the limits of what Bella was able to offer him in their union. There were moments he truly believed she hated him, felt it down to the marrow of his bones. He could see the deep seated resentment simmering beneath her dead stare as she sat huddled in the corner of their shared cell, as far from him as she could manage in such a confined space.

But then there were the nights she sat huddled in his arms, physically wracked from the sobs and the screams, mentally drained from the hopelessness of their shared situation. And that was the core of it all. They shared everything. Every sin, every travesty, every defining moment in one another lives from the moment their eyes connected across Black Hall all those years ago. That was what kept them tied for eternity, no matter the pain and regrets that littered their past. It was their pain and regrets to share.

He was the only one who could possibly understand what she was feeling all those long years wasting away in that tower in the North Sea, and for that she always found a way of coming back to him. Whether that meant crawling six feet across the filthy cell floor into his open arms or apparating halfway around the world to provide backup on a mission that was getting out of hand, his Bella would always return to him, eventually.

For their could not be hatred where there was not first love. That was another mantra he repeated to himself all those long nights in the freezing cold of their shared hell.

A bright green curse sped past his head, missing by inches thanks to many years of honed reflexes. He was surprised to see the young face scowling at him from the end of the opposing wand.

A child had successfully cast a killing curse. Curious.

He knew Severus allowed the Carrows to teach and inflict the cruciatus on school grounds, but he hoped they weren’t stupid enough to arm the students with lethal abilities.

By the time he finished pondering how a person so young could have successfully unleashed such a curse the said child was stunned and left in a heap of bodies, blood, and rubble littering the long corridor.

Their Master had instructed them to only stun the younger students when possible, reserving their Avadas for upperclassmen fighting with more lethal force and proving harder to brainwash after the battle was won. Of course once the battle began the air was alight with smoke and multi colored flashes from the onslaught of non-stop curses and shields. It became next to impossible to determine the approximate age of anyone in a uniform. At first he merely went off height, then fighting ability, but soon stopped trying to decipher and unleashed stunners on nearly every non-Order member he crossed wands with.

From the corner of his eye he watched his fellow Death Eaters openly disregard the Dark Lord’s orders and unleashed a multitude of lethal curses indiscriminately. In another lifetime he would scream orders and personally oversee their punishments for insubordination.

But none of that mattered to him now. He only had one goal in mind: finding his wife.

A cold numbness had settled into his bones before they even apparated from Malfoy Manor to the school gates. He couldn’t convince Bella to sit out this battle, to stay at the Manor and protect the most important jewel in their treasury. And of course he had followed her here, unable to stand the thought of Bella fighting for her life and dying without his wand at her aid. They had been through everything together, and would see this night through side by side.

The Battle was out of control, far more difficult than even the Dark Lord had been anticipating, though he knew his Master would never admit to being surprised by the forces of elderly professors and toddlers with their milk teeth.

Suddenly he heard his wife’s battle cry, a high pitched laugh that proudly declared what was likely a gruesome victory against a bunch of school children. Before the Battle had begun, a part of him wondered if Bella would find difficulty with dueling children now that she was a…

Another curse went zipping by his head, this one splitting into a sea of embers that sizzled and snapped in the air, burning everything they came in contact with. An impressive bit of magic unleashed by an older looking teen with a yellow tie loosely hanging from her neck, the color barely discernible through caked dirt and dried blood.

He sent a strong stunner her way and was once again impressed by the powerful shield she threw up a split second before his curse connected. What exactly were the Carrows teaching these students? Was it possible this was magic learned at home? He’d witnessed too many explosive and dark curses uttered from the mouths and wands of babes to believe these children were performing at their typical school level. Perhaps parents throughout Wizarding Britain were arming their offspring with private dueling lessons?

Unlikely. Somehow these students had armed themselves behind Snape and the Carrows’ backs and were putting up one hell of a fight.

He engaged in a few more seconds of dueling with the talented Hufflepuff teen before she suddenly jolted forward, her eyes glazing over and her limbs dropping like a marionette with its strings cut.

He was puzzled for a moment until she dropped to her knees and then into a crumpled heap, Dolohov’s wand still poised behind where she once stood, his eyes gleaming feral even in the poorly lit hall.

“Wasting time with stunners?” His Russian accent was always heavier during a battle.

“Just following orders,” Rodolphus ground back, flying past his fellow Death Eater in the direction he last heard his wife’s voice.

He wasn’t surprised to see Antonin keeping pace at his side.

“The time for stunners has long passed. The Dark Lord is ready for this battle to end and to claim victory. Kill anyone left standing.”

“And I’m to take order from you now, am I?” Rodolphus bit out with more anger than was appropriate for Dolohov’s comment. But the Russian took the scathing remark in stride, a knowing smirk already at home on his smudged and filthy face.

“Hunting for wifey?”

Rodolphus cringed internally at the other man’s sarcastic taunt. He and Antonin were brothers in many ways after fighting so many bloody battles side-by-side, often guarding one another’s back. If Rodolphus was ever hard pressed to choose who he trusted most in this world, Antonin would easily rank third. But the ongoing sore spot between the two men, as well as between him and Rab, was that Bella held the top spot in all facets of his life, even after what she did while he sat in Azkaban the year prior, pining for merely a glimpse of her.

He was still reeling from the events of the last ten months and coming to terms with the long-term ramifications of his wife’s decision on their marital future. But while he had chosen to accept the things in which he could not change and push ahead with the current circumstances, Rab nor Antonin were as open minded and refused to let him pretend his marriage was anything close to normal.

“Perhaps I am,” he responded tightly, the roar of screams and spells echoing off every stone of the vast castle, but Antonin remained at his shoulder and could hear him just fine, “Though it would seem I am not the only one on the hunt. Still can’t locate your Mudblood prize?”

He couldn’t afford to pull his attention away from possible attacks in order to see his friend’s reaction, but he could practically hear the scowl in the Russian’s voice.

“I have spotted her several times throughout the night, but always from across the battlefield. I believe she is in the Great Hall now, battling your wife, if Yaxley is to be believed. Everyone is gathering there for the final push. I was on my way there when I heard your pathetic attempts at subduing a teenager too young to apparate.”

Rodolphus chose to ignore the slight. He broke into a run towards the Great Hall, where the battle raged the loudest, the ground and walls vibrating the closer they got.

“Remind your wife of our deal!” Antonin shouted as they approached the entrance of the Great Hall, the noise almost deafening, “I will have my Mudblood in exchange for my Vow-“

“Bloody hell, I know, Dolohov!” Rodolphus shouted his parting words with more contempt than he really felt towards his friend.

True, Antonin’s obsession with Potter’s Mudblood since their run in at the Department of Mysteries was well known within the Inner Circle, and a great source of amusement for those looking to make the Russian’s blood boil. But his endless reminders of their deal while preparing for the final battle was not what made Rodolphus explode with anger.

No. It was spotting Bella at the front of the enormous room dueling against three young women, laughing maniacally as she wielded her wand as a masterful maestro.

He shot and dodged curses blindly, desperate to clear a path through the insanity to his wife. He recognized the fire in her eyes as well as he his own face in the mirror. She was lost to bloodlust, half crazed with the dark magic pulsing through her veins and exuding from every pore. She was not staying on the outskirts of the battle, shooting down the fleeing and injured students as promised, she was in the very heart of the battle surrounded by the most skilled of their opponents.

A quick look to her left told him exactly why.

She was fighting alongside her Master.

It always came down to Him.

Rodolphus’s blood boiled with a ferocity he had yet to feel this evening, and it wasn’t for the students and Order members shooting a rainbow of curses and hexes his way. He shook with rage that his wife was once again risking her life for her Dark Lord rather than preserving herself for the sake of her husband. Or, on this particular night, for the sake of her daughter.

He had lost track of Antonin but upon seeing Potter’s Mudblood dueling Bella he could only assume the Russian was trying to cut a similar path across the Hall. Dolohov would not stand for Bella to strike down his war prize this close to the end of the battle.

And the end was near. The same foreboding shadow that settled upon him earlier this evening was now fully engulfing him it its cold and dreadful clutch, so similar to the sensation of a Dementor passing his cell that he felt half mad with blind terror.

Stunning spells long forgotten, he aimed to kill, whether it was man, woman or child, anyone standing between him and Bella was to be struck down permanently. He was slowly getting closer and honed his senses to her voice, now clearly discernible above all the other chaos.

She was taunting the girls she was dueling, clearly playing with her food as she was easily capable of cutting them all down with one fatal sweep of her wand.

This enraged him further. She was playing games and taking her time instead of opting for efficiency. No one could drive him mad like Bella could. No one else inspired such a reaction from him, made him feel every emotion across the spectrum between love and hate in such quick succession.

And then he saw it, that flash of finality in her dark eyes, her decision to plunge her claws into her prey and tear out their jugular.

She shot a killing curse at her redhead opponent, the teen’s athletic body performing an acrobatic twist a millisecond before the curse hit its target, sizzling a wisp of her flying tresses.

Just as suddenly another red head appeared, someone much older than Bella’s current adversaries and draped in common house robes. It took his overactive mind a moment to process this was Molly Weasley, rapidly firing neurons connecting the dots that the younger girl must be her daughter, who he vaguely recognized from the Department of Mysteries.

Any Weasley was considered as powerful a bargaining chip as the Mudblood herself. He didn’t goad Antonin for his obsession with the filthy girl for he understood what it was to be bewitched mind, body and soul by someone that evaded you at every turn.

As the elder Weasley pushed the younger girls back and threw curses at his wife he turned his focus to the opponents closest to him. He only half listened to Bella’s cutting taunts, something about one of the Weasleys being struck down. The family was so prolific he was surprised more weren’t dead by now.

He fully expected Bella to cut the old, fat hag down to size in a matter of seconds.

That was the thought going through Rodolphus’s mind when his world shattered.

For decades to come he would always remember the following moments in stunning clarity. He would later obsess whether time literally slowed down merely to torture him, forcing him to absorb every last bit pain and misery that bore into his being.

Time, after all, was soon to become his most elusive and demanding mistress.

But he didn’t know any of that just yet. All that existed was the here and now and the sudden flash of blinding green from the corner of his eye. Reliving that terrible moment time and time again he’d ask himself how he knew Bella was the victim of the killing curse before actually witnessing her fall.

He later decided it was the ominous silence that followed the blast.

After successfully striking down her opponents Bella would unleash a victory call, ranging from a bark of amusement to high shriek peels of laughter, depending on the fierceness of the duel and victim.

But his wife’s voice did not immediately follow the flash of green, and that was the moment he knew she had fallen. That was the moment everything slowed, everything changed, and a central part of him died in the smoldering pit of his chest cavity.

He turned in time to see the killing curse dissipate from the air surrounding her upper torso, crackling in the air like an electric current. She staggered on her feet and a look of shock crossed her face, a look he was sure was mirrored on his own. He was screaming endlessly in his head, a mantra of her name and other pleas to any deity that may have been listening, but his throat burned with how tightly it constricted, rendering him mute as the world around him exploded.

It was then that Bella’s eyes shifted, just a fraction, the rest of her face frozen in that expression of dumbfounded misery he would never be able to purge from his memory.

Those fathomless, dark, beautiful eyes he spent over half his life gazing into locked onto his one final time. A world of memories and broken promises flashed through his mind, like stuffing his head in an overflowing pensieve of every moment he ever held dear and preserved from the Dementors.

He watched in abject terror as the light behind those eyes faded and she slowly collapsed, first to her knees, then finally breaking their gaze as she collapsed lifeless to the stone floor in a near identical mimicry of the Hufflepuff slain before him only minutes before.

Suddenly a deep, agonized scream erupted in the Hall, overpowering every other sound and making the great stone walls tremble anew. People stopped fighting mid cast to turn and look at the spectacle at the front of the Hall.

Rodolphus was still frozen in his all consuming agony and disbelief so it took a moment to realize the screaming was emanating from somewhere other than in his own head. Recognition was slow to come, thoughts moving through a thick fog, until he finally realized it was the Dark Lord wailing like a wounded animal.

He felt a flush of anger that his Master could possibly pretend to comprehend the depth of what Rodolphus had just lost, but just as suddenly as the rage overrode his despair the Dark Lord was cursing away his previous opponents with a powerful blast and making a move towards the Weasley woman who was now clinging to her daughter.

And then Potter appeared as if from thin air. But Rodolphus was disassociated to the world around him.

Whether his Master killed the idiot boy or Potter once more pulled another miracle from his endless repertoire of tricks was meaningless. All that mattered in his world just hit the stone floor and snuffed out the last bit of light in his life.

Rodolphus staggered backwards, deaf to the conversation happening between the Dark Lord and the boy as they slowly circled one another like birds of prey.

He felt a strong hand grip his arm, halting his movements. He spun around, wand at the ready, and locked eyes with a face so similar to his own.

“What is it?” Rabastan asked and then answered his own question when he averted his eyes to where Rodolphus had previously been transfixed. He sighed deeply, nodding in realization and then redirected his attention to his older brother.

“I’m sorry, Rod, but we have a mission to see through.”

His brother’s words were slow to take root in his mind, but once they settled Rodolphus was hit with a memory that nearly buckled his knees with its weight.

_“Brilliant, My Lord!” Bella gushed, leaning over for a closer look at the item sitting on the table before the Inner Circle and their Leader._

_“Careful, Bella,” their Master reprimanded lightly, causing Bella to jerk back as if burned, “Neither hand, hair or breath may touch this item until precisely the right moment, should that moment ever come.” He spoke the last part in a quiet hiss that sent chills up Rodolphus’s spine._

_What lay before them was a secret meant to be kept upon pain of death. Rodolphus was quite positive the Dark Lord would have put them all under an Unbreakable Vow if more than one individual could execute the task in question._

_Alas, it could not be, and there was no way to know who would be the one to perform this duty should the need arise._

_“The information we have discussed this night is to not leave the walls of this room. If I find out any of you have discussed this plan, even amongst yourselves, I will be not be pleased.” The calm way in which he delivered this threat imparted a deeper malevolence than if he had outlined each and every step of their promised evisceration._

_“Of course, my Lord,” was Bella’s instant response, unphased by the heavy threat hovering above all their heads._

_“Since this is the only time any of you are permitted to speak of this plan, are there any questions?” The Dark Lord’s snake like eyes burned an acidic trail as he looked to each of them in turn, no one meeting his gaze except Bella, until Rodolphus felt the heavy weight of his Master’s attention focused solely upon his downturned head._

_“Comments?”_

_He forced himself to meet his Master’s eyes, a task that had become a minor feet ever since their Lord returned from the grave half man, half beast. Rodolphus knew the final question was directed for him specifically, as he had been unusually quiet throughout the night’s revelation and subsequent discussion. He hoped his distracted state would go unnoticed, but of course nothing escaped their Master’s attention._

_Rodolphus swallowed heavily in realized fear and to afford a few precious moments to formulate his response._

_“Yes, my Lord,” Rodolphus began, measuring each word carefully, “Would it not be prudent to have a member of your Inner Circle, someone you trust beyond reproach, stay here at the Manor, to ensure someone is alive to execute this plan if the need arises?”_

_He saw his wife stand straighter, muscles tense, beside him. She knew what he was trying to do and he expected a tongue-lashing and particularly nasty hex for it later. But all that mattered was convincing his Master right now._

_The skin above the Dark Lord’s left eye lifted slightly, his version of a raised brow without brows to raise._

_“Go on.”_

_Rodolphus took a deep breath to steal himself and continued, despite the anger radiating from the slight feminine form beside him._

_“If we need to execute this plan as a last resort, it’s because you will have fallen, my Lord,” he saw his Master’s face go tense and rapidly pushed forward, aware of how uncomfortable his surrounding Death Eaters became upon his blasphemy, “Which is unfathomable, I can’t imagine any scenario in which the coward Potter would be able to take a piss without the Order assisting. But since we are discussing this as a back up plan to the unthinkable, I’m also considering the likelihood that if they do have some hidden trick up their sleeve it’s also likely the majority of the people in this room will be dead before it has any effect on you. You will be the most powerful wizard in the battle to come, my Lord, if you fall, there is no logical way anyone in this room could still be standing.”_

_He paused, braced for death or torture, unable to fully read his Master’s face. He only hoped his insults against Potter and praise of his Lord’s immense power would be enough to earn him a reprieve._

_The room was deadly silent, even Bella seemed unsure how to proceed; poised at the ready to stroke her Master’s stung ego if need be._

_Just as Rodolphus was resigned to death and his mind started to drift to the nursery upstairs his Master tipped his head forward a slight fraction, “Proceed.”_

_Rodolphus released the breath he’d been holding._

_“I propose that someone stay behind at the Manor while the battle in underway. We are connected to you through our Mark, my Lord. Should that connection be severed, your loyal followers will know instantaneously,” this part Rodolphus wasn’t so sure about, but his Master didn’t offer any opposing information to give him pause, “The person stationed at the Manor could then proceed accordingly, with the Order remaining none the wiser.”_

_He hoped his last statement would mitigate any insult imparted by the rest of his speech._

_Silence filled the vast dining hall once more until Lucius anxiously shifted his weight upon his cane._

_“Interesting proposition, Rodolphus…” the Dark Lord’s tone revealed nothing, “And were I to agree to this plan, would you volunteer to be the one to remain behind at the Manor?”_

_Rodolphus inhaled sharply and braced himself once more, though this time he was fortifying himself for his wife’s fury._

_“I would happily do so should my Lord request it of me, however I would like to recommend Bella for the task.”_

_He no sooner finished his sentence before Bella exploded with movement at his side._

_“Absolutely not! I will fight by my Dark Lord’s side and see that Potter brat dead at his feet! I will watch the Order crumble in on itself and-,”_

_“Calm yourself, Bella.”_

_Rodolphus’s jaw tensed as his wife fell silent more quickly than a silencing charm could take effect. She showed unlimited obedience to but one Master, and it had never been him._

_“And why would you volunteer Bella for this task, Rodolphus? Are you sure you aren’t allowing bias to cloud your judgment? It would be understandable after all, to want your wife to be as far from the threat of peril as possible.”_

_Bella stared up at her husband with challenging eyes, as though daring him to resume his attempts to sequester her._

_“Not at all, my Lord. Bella’s skills at the Dark Arts are surpassed only by you,” this at least, was something Rodolphus believed to be true, “I do not doubt her ability to protect herself in the battle to come. However if this truly is a last resort, it must be preserved and executed by the best of us. Should anything go awry, Bella is most equipped to neutralize any threat in your absence.”_

_He felt as though he was grabbing words floating freely in the air, trying to piece together a solid argument as he went. Rodolphus was well versed in thinking quickly on his feet; he only hoped his proposal held weight to the one person who mattered._

_The appraising look his Master gave him told him that he wasn’t about to be tortured and killed on site, at least not yet. Was it possible he had actually convinced his Lord to remand Bella to the Manor while the final battle raged?_

_Bella seemed to sense the change in the Dark Lords demeanor and panic visibly creased her face, though she appeared equally afraid to speak out of turn after being silenced moments before._

_Rodolphus knew his wife would love nothing more than to fight and die beside her Master rather than being holed up in the Manor like an impotent elf awaiting their next command._

_He waited with baited breath for his Master’s next words, already tasting the victory on his tongue, when another voice rang out within the long Hall._

_“My Lord, if I may…”_

_The Dark Lord snapped out of his internal reverie and looked to the person standing closest to his other side._

_“Of course, Severus, I am most interested to hear your thoughts on Rodolphus’s proposal.”_

_Rodolphus clenched his fists at his side. Severus was always a wild card. Rodolphus never understood the trust their Master instilled in the pompous, lanky excuse for a man._

_Of all the Inner Circle members Severus has performed the fewest acts of loyalty. He never even served time in Azkaban for Merlin’s sake! Rodolphus couldn’t comprehend the connection the pathetic oaf shared with their Master but he knew better than to question it, or to argue openly with Severus while he delivered his council._

_“I do not fault Rodolphus’s logic in remanding a Circle member to remain behind with the relic. I do however think it a waste to deny our side the use of one of our most lethal weapons in the heat of the final battle.”_

_Bella openly preened at the compliment, which Rodolphus found most amusing considering her deep hatred for the man who delivered it._

_Severus never took his eyes from his Master, “Should this plan need to be executed it will require minimal effort, literally the flick of one’s wrist. Even the most incompetent of your followers could perform without fail. I think it most prudent to leave behind someone who will not be missed on the battlefield.”_

_Severus paused, letting his words settle into his Master’s mind before adding almost as an after thought, “Perhaps Avery.”_

_“Fuck you, Snape!”_

_“Silence!” The Dark Lord’s voice seemed to reverberate from within the walls and vaulted ceiling, surrounding them from all sides, “You will refrain from using such language in my presence, Avery.”_

_“My apologies, Master.”_

_“My Lord,” Lucius suddenly spoke up, his voice hoarse from prolonged screaming after multiple torture sessions over the last few weeks, “I realize my family has not performed to the level that is worthy to serve you and to further our ideals-”_

_“Yes, yes, out with it, Lucius.”_

_“I would like the opportunity to redeem my family name and serve you in this matter. May I volunteer Draco for the task-”_

_This time Bella couldn’t contain her outburst, a peel of high pitch laughter exploding from her lips as she bent over the table trying to catch her breath._

_Rodolphus was not surprised their Master didn’t reprimand her this time for he wore an amused expression as well._

_“Lucius, I believe what our dear Bella is trying to convey is our shared disbelief. First of all, do you see your son standing anywhere in this room? Perhaps he’s under a disillusionment charm I have yet to detect?”_

_Rodolphus watched what little color remained in the pale blonde rise to his cheeks._

_“Of course not, my Lord, I only meant-”_

_“You meant to leave what may be the last hope for our cause in the hands of your incompetent offspring, who has already failed every task I have assigned to him. The reason you do not see your son standing in this room is because he is not a member of my Inner Circle, he has done nothing to earn that right and therefore is not worthy to be privy to this secret. To be quite honest, I’ve debated allowing you into this room. I would not trust a Malfoy with casting a proper lumos when I need it.”_

_Lucius bent his head down, defeated, and Bella finally fell into a supremely smug silence._

_“Now, back to Severus’s point,” their Master continued, his words cutting like knives, “I agree that it would be a waste to leave someone as skilled as Bella behind at the Manor.”_

_Rodolphus swallowed heavily, his heart pumping wildly as the Dark Lord went on, “However I do not think it prudent to leave the task to one of my more-“ his eyes locked onto the top of Lucius’s downturned head, “incompetent followers.”_

_Severus turned his gaze downcast; Rodolphus could practically see the wheels turning behind those black eyes. How could their Master trust this man as he did? Rodolphus was merely trying to spare Bella from lethal injury in the battle to come, and not for his sake (so he told himself) but for the sake of the innocent child sleeping upstairs. Severus clearly had motivations of his own; Rodolphus didn’t trust him for a minute._

_“So here is my compromise,” their Master began anew, speaking loud and clear across the long table. “We will all go into the final battle, however I shall assign a choice few of you to remain on the outskirts of the fight, capturing anyone trying to flee and the injured left behind. Should I become incapacitated in any way, it will be up to one of you to return to the Manor and execute this task. Do not fail me.”_

_The final words were spoken as a cold warning that snuffed out the flames in the nearby sconces._

_Clearly dismissed, Rodolphus turned to depart the Dining Hall, mentally fortifying himself for his wife’s wrath once they returned to their chambers and sparing one last glance at the time turner laying on the table._


	2. Chapter Two

**May 2, 1998**

**Hogwarts Castle**

Rodolphus shook free of his brother’s grip and continued his stumbling path towards the Great Hall entrance. Everyone filling the massive room was transfixed on the exchange happening between Potter and the Dark Lord, little notice was given to his silent retreat. 

Except, of course, for his brother who followed hot on his heels.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Rabastan hissed, pushing Rodolphus into an alcove behind a suit of armor once they were free of the Great Hall.

“I am returning to the Manor.”

“The hell you are!”

“I can’t leave her without a mother!”

“Bloody hell, Rod! When will you come to your senses? That child is far better off without that crazy bitch in her life-” Rabastan was cut short by Rodolphus’s fist slamming into his mouth.

Rabastan staggered to the side and spit out blood, turning venomous eyes back on his older brother. “I know you can’t see it now but I promise you, your life is better off without her. She was nothing but a plague upon our family, upon you, and she would have brought that same fate to the child you hold so dear.”

Rodolphus was heaving in his rage, advancing on Rabastan who rose to meet him head on, both men of great height and broad build.

“Is there a problem, gentlemen?" 

The question was so out of place that it successfully pulled the attention of both brothers away from each other and to the speaker, none other than Severus. 

“Stay out of this, Snape.”

“On the contrary, Rodolphus, you seem to be the one _staying out of it_ , as you say. Were we not beckoned into the Great Hall by our Master?”

“Then what are you doing out here?”

“I couldn’t help but notice your silent retreat. I thought perhaps one of you was gravely injured and I might offer my assistance.” 

“Fucking liar! You’d sooner curse me dead than-”

“Enough!” yelled Rabastan, “All of us are going to return right now and watch the Dark Lord finish this once and for all!” 

But Rodolphus wasn’t having any of it. He jerked once more from his brother’s bruising grip and continued his trek down the corridor, purposefully knocking into Snape who staggered only once before regaining his balance. Rodolphus knew the greasy man was quick on his feet given his slight frame, and being a man of great bulk himself he resented the other’s man’s almost graceful movements when he dueled.

“I do hope you aren’t in violation of the Dark Lord’s orders, Rodolphus.”

That was the final straw that broke his fragile sanity. Still reeling from Bella’s death and listening to his brother desecrate her memory he was in no mood for Snape’s mind games. He spun on the man with his wand drawn, throwing out a powerful cruciatus that Snape easily blocked with an equally powerful shield.

Rodolphus heard his brother swear under his breath from somewhere off to the side and sensed his movement, but he wasn’t sure which side Rabastan would come to assist given the opportunity so he kept his guard against them both.

“Severus, this is none of your concern. Stay back. If you try to stop me, I will kill you.”

“Interesting proposition considering the Dark Lord will surely kill me for not trying to stop you. Seems I’m a dead man either way. Perhaps I should just do what I feel is right so that I may die with one less sin to my name.”

The intensity and focus in Snape’s black gaze took Rodolphus off guard. Severus was always a very serious man, but he usually dismissed those around him with little to no regard. The fire burning in his eyes as he stood before him now, poised to duel, was the most lively Rodolphus had seen the man in the many years he’d known him.

“What are you playing at, Snape?”

“I’m not _playing at_ anything,” Severus spat the words as though they tasted foul on his tongue, “I’m simply following orders, like a good little soldier, as you should be doing.”

“I’m going to go back to the Manor now, Severus. So you had better strike me dead where I stand, because that is the only way to stop me.”

“That certainly can be arranged.”

Rodolphus braced himself for a curse but instead noticed Snape’s eyes flicker briefly to a spot beyond his shoulder. Acting on pure instinct and adrenaline Rodolphus ducked and pivoted, delivering a sharp fist to Rabastan’s kidney and rolling with the trajectory to dodge the hex Snape cast in their wake.

Rodolphus may not have been as fast as Snape, but he was much stronger and by Merlin he would pummel that filthy fucking ingrate into the ground the moment he got his hands on him.

However it would seem Severus didn’t consider Rodolphus any more of a threat up close; given the rapid-fire curses he sent his way as he slowly progressed. Rodolphus kept up a constant shield, also inching his way closer to his opponent, the corridor an explosion of multicolor lights and smoke.

“Stop this, both of you!” Rabastan yelled over the commotion, unheard by both men as they continued to battle in the confined space.

“What’s it matter anyway, Snape? I turn back time a few hours, just as planned, and we’re right back where we are now, no harm done.”

“I can’t let you do that, Lestrange.”

Severus’s words sounded like death: ultimate and final. Rodolphus knew then without a shadow of a doubt that Snape would lay down his life to prevent Rodolphus from getting his hands on the time turner, and a slow creeping awareness started its way up Rodolphus’s spine and into his mind.

He knew why he was willing to die for this; he would give his final breath for Bella any day, as it always had been. But why was Snape ready to die for this moment?

If Rodolphus successfully turned back time it certainly wouldn’t hurt their side of things, if anything it would deliver them a stronger strategy going into the Final Battle with Rodolphus’s information from the future.

As much as Rodolphus hated to admit, he knew Snape was a brilliant man with a knack for finding solutions to impossible problems. Surely he knew the benefits of using the time turner… He may not like violating the terms of their Master’s orders but was it really worth his life?

And then just as another powerful curse exploded against his shield, creating deep fissures along the stonewalls, it all clicked into place.

“What’s the real reason you don’t want me turning back time, Snape?”

Severus’s eyes became impossibly darker, and rather than answering he increased the intensity of his attack.

“You don’t want me using it because you don’t want to arm the Dark Lord with any beneficial information, you don’t want to risk him winning this war, do you, Sev?”

He knew the mocking use of Snape’s long-ago nickname would only provoke the man further. He was instantly rewarded. Snape battled like a man possessed, and not for the first time Rodolphus saw the deep seated hatred in his black gaze.

“It’s not true, is it, Severus?” Rabastan asked, barely audible over the explosive magic.

“Of course it’s true, brother! Snape has never been on our side. It’s just as Bella has been saying since Azkaban; Snape is a traitor and a spy! He must be killed!”

“I will not be the one dying this night, Lestrange!”

Hearing the threat launched against his brother finally put Rabastan into motion. He chose his side and slid into place beside Rodolphus.

This was a dance both men knew well, having fought side by side with wand and fist since childhood. They were in total sync with one another. Their ability to anticipate each other’s moves made them a formidable pair on the battlefield. It was why the Dark Lord often paired them for missions.

Severus, ever the clever one, sensed when he was outnumbered and started to retreat, though his eyes still burned furiously.

“I will see you flayed alive for your betrayal, Snape.”

Suddenly Rodolphus felt a sharp, painful twinge along his left forearm. Had he been hit? Was there someone else firing curses? Briefly drawing his attention away from his opponent he noticed his brother clutching his arm as well.

Just then a chorus of cheers rang out from the Great Hall. It was deafening in volume, louder for its echoing as it traveled down the corridor, an unmistakable mantra of joy that could only be delivered from the mouth of babes.

“The Dark Lord is dead!” a young girl shouted, her voice ringing like a bell over all the rest.

“It can’t be…” Rabastan muttered in disbelief, his eyes darting to his older brother in naked desperation.

Random images flashed through Rodolphus’s mind so rapidly he wasn’t sure what was a thought and what was a memory. But then his mind projected a familiar scene… the Dining Hall at Malfoy Manor, the Inner Circle congregated around a single, gleaming item on the table...

“Now there’s no choice! One of us must go to the Manor and activate the time turner!”

Before Rabastan could respond a strange, disturbing sound filled the hall and raised the hair on the back of Rodolphus’s neck. He quickly turned his focus back to the third man in the corridor and was stunned by the sight.

Severus was laughing. A deep, rolling belly laugh. Rodolphus realized in that moment he had never witnessed the man’s laugh. Had never seen such thrill in the man’s perpetually sour expression. Severus’s unrestrained joy in that moment was a truly haunting omen.

“You poor, pathetic fools.” He spoke through the laughter. “The time turner is destroyed. Long before Potter faced against your Master. The Order made sure there was no way that parasitic abomination could ever return to life again.”

Snape’s words burned through Rodolphus’s chest, blazing a trail straight to his rapidly beating heart. The pain was unreal. Surely it would explode at any moment.

“The Order was in the Manor?” his voice sounded distant to his own ears.

Snape’s smile grew wider.

Rodolphus fought to stay upright through his panic. The Order was in the Manor this night? Did they find her? Did they take her? Was she being kept at the Ministry as he stood here now, trading words and wasting precious time?

As his mind raced there was a sudden explosion that shook the ground so hard Rodolphus collapsed. He watched the ceiling cave in, massive stones crashing down in clouds of dust so thick he lost sight of Rabastan.

Pulling to his knees he coughed and gasped for fresh air, finding none and filling his lungs with more smoke and debris. He groped blindly in his confusion, trying to gain his bearings and deeply grateful he still had possession of his wand, when a strong hand grasp his arm and hauled him backwards with great force.

Too dazed to fight the crushing vice he allowed himself to be pulled from the wreckage. Black spots filled his vision, his eyes and nose streaming to expel the foreign debris.

“We have to run!” A familiar voice shouted, echoing in his head until the words were unintelligible.

He felt something wet streaming from his right ear. It tickled. He wiped at the moisture and his fingers pulled away red and shining.

“Merlin! You look like shit. Hang on.”

Rodolphus felt himself being hauled to his feet, he staggered to support his own weight, only to find something strong and solid braced beneath his left armpit. He glanced down knowing who he’d find but needing to feel the rush of relief upon seeing Rabastan faithfully at his side.

Rodolphus was a few inches taller but Rabastan was a few inches bulkier, easily supporting his weight as they started a limping jog down what remained of the corridor and into the Entrance Hall.

Rodolphus wheezed in the clean air. Though it still reeked of dark magic, stale body odor and dead bodies it served to clear his vision and sober his mind. 

He did a quick inventory of his injuries. He felt several new cuts and abrasions following the explosion, and his knee was killing him, but he otherwise felt whole and was equal parts grateful and amazed.

“What the fuck was that?”

Rabastan didn’t slow their pace or spare him a glance. “I cast a silent bombarda maxima on the ceiling. Figured it was about time we said our goodbyes.”

“I quite agree. It’s okay, I can walk.”

Rodolphus pulled away and grimaced as pain flared through his knee. He quickly cast a numbing charm, he’d worry about proper healing spells later.

Without needing to speak the brothers moved in unison, sticking to the shadows until they exited the Castle. Rodolphus was amazed by the amount of wreckage outside, both in architecture and bodies. In the darkness the blood coating the grass looked black. The lawn became a massive sea, waves glistening in the moonlight.

Rodolphus thought of a picture book he read to the baby months ago. The story was about a mermaid falling in love with a wizarding sailor and featured scenes of a great shipwreck. In his mind’s eye he superimposed the carnage and destruction before him onto the pages of the book. What a fitting bedtime story. Fall in line, children. Obey authority, don’t fight back, or be cast into the black sea of despair….

“Rod, you still with me?”

Rodolphus swallowed thickly and tore his eyes from the lifeless body near his foot. Not an adult, not a teen, a child. Another image in the picture book.

“You still look dazed, you hear me okay?”

Rodolphus nodded, wiping the sweat, blood and grime from his face with the back of equally filthy forearm. “I’m fine. Just a bit shaken up from the explosion. We need to get past the anti-apparition barrier.”

Rabastan nodded. “It extends to the Forest. Once we hit the tree line we should be fine. And we’ll have cover. But we have to haul ass. I’m pretty sure Snape survived. I saw him throw a shield before I lost sight of him in the rubble.”

Rodolphus wouldn’t be surprised, cockroaches survive almost every curse thrown at them. The only thing that seemed to stick was an avada, if you were quick enough to hit your target.

One thing was for certain, given another opportunity Rodolphus wouldn’t miss his target again.

Pulling in a deep breath Rodolphus scanned the field, coming to only one conclusion.

“We’ll need to make a run for it. There’s not enough solid cover to hide behind, and the slower we move the more likely we’re caught.”

“We’re going to run a straight path to the woods? Out in the open?”

“I don’t see anyone outside. Not even our own who were supposed to be waiting on the outskirts.”

“Snape told the Order about the time turner, he most certainly told them about our attack strategy. They’ll have taken down the outliers first. Easy targets.”

Rodolphus ground his teeth. Fucking Snape. He’d torture the man within an inch of his life before killing him.

“We don’t have time to waste. Come on, Brother.”

And with than the men took off at breakneck speed across the field, jumping over bodies and debris in equal measure. Every hard landing did further damage to his knee but his lack of feeling in the joint pushed his concern to the side.

He skid a few times, the copious amounts of blood and bodily fluids combined with natural condensation made traction a rare commodity. Rabastan kept tight on his heels, he could hear the loud panting breaths right behind his back and feel the scalding exhalations on his neck.

No sooner did he lose his footing on the soaked grass and skid forward onto his ass than he felt Rabastan gripping the back of his robes, hauling him up with such lightning reflexes his tumble seemed more dance move than accident.  

Resuming an all out sprint, he was vaguely aware that adrenaline had taken over every one of his senses. He no longer smelled the blood and smoke in the air, no longer felt the burning in his lungs or painful thumping in his chest, no longer heard the gasping breaths behind him or blood pounding through his ears, no longer saw the bodies of dead children and pieces of broken castle belonging to a place he once called home. He even lost sight of the treeline, so encased in darkness as it was.

He only felt motivated to move forward. _Ahead_. Keep going. Getting closer. Need to keep moving, keep pumping, keep digging. Give it everything you’ve got. If you hold back now they’ll take away the last thing you have left…

“Rod! Stop! We’re here!”

He momentum came to a crashing halt, Rabastan’s hand clamping onto the neck of his robes and hauling him back, effectively cutting of his airway and causing him to gasp and choke as he lost his footing, falling to the ground a second time in an many minutes.

“Fucking-” cough, gasp “Merlin-” wheeze “Rab! You nearly-” cough, cough “Took my fucking head-” gasp “Off!”

“Better me than a fucking centaur! You were running into the fucking woods! Pay attention, Rod, I need you to focus!”

Rodolphus rubbed at his sore throat and rose to his feet, groaning at the pain in his overexerted muscles. He made it a point to exercise regularly following his first escape from Azkaban. He never wanted to feel weak and helpless again. But no matter how many laps he jogged around the Manor or health potions he poured down his throat, he was still limited by the reality of his age and the long term effects of prolonged malnutrition.

Sprinting across the massive Hogwarts grounds was no easy feet, and while adrenaline had numbed his body as good as any spell, he was starting to feel the effects of his depleted physical and magical energy.

He’d love to lay down on the wet, dead leaves, propped against a tree and close his eyes for just a few minutes. But he knew that was out of the question. They had no time to rest, no time to do anything but continue running, getting as far from the Order as possible.

Rodolphus finally regained his bearings and raised his wand.

“I’ll meet you at the Manor.” He began to turn, half the spell already spoken when Rabastan reached out and halted his wand movements.

“Wait! What?”

He scowled. There wasn’t time for this! The Order’s forces were no doubt already rounding up remaining Death Eaters, and thanks to Snape everyone would know they both made it out alive.

“We can’t go back to the Manor!” Rabastan hissed. “That’s the first place they’ll look! The Order’s probably still holed up there now, waiting for the idiot Malfoys to return-”

“I have no choice, Rab! I have to see if she’s still there!”

Now it was Rabastan’s turn to scowl.

“Are you fucking serious? She isn’t even yours! You’re signing your own death warrant if you set foot on that property. Besides, we both know she’s long gone." 

“Maybe not, they may not know about her-”

“Of course they fucking know about her! Snape was fucking working with them this entire time! They know everything!”

“You saw him take the Vow with your own eyes. He’s under the same secrecy as the rest of us. He wouldn’t have been able to utter a word about her existence to anyone outside the Circle. He’s under its effects even now. She could still be hidden.”

Distant voices stole his attention. Shouts emerging from the castle. People appearing at the entrance, casting spells into the night. Locator spells, no doubt, looking for lost allies or fleeing enemies.

“We have to go now!”

“I’m not setting foot inside the Manor!”

“Then don’t! Go to our meet up location, I’ll find the baby and meet you there.”

“We both know if you return to that Manor I’ll never see you again, even if you find her.”

The intensity of his brother’s statement was enough to give Rodolphus pause, even as he heard the distant shouts draw closer.

“What do you mean?”

Rabastan gave him his best impression of Snape, as though Rodolphus was an idiot, and he quelled the urge to punch him.

“We both know that there’s a far greater chance of you being killed or taken into custody the moment you set foot beyond the Manor’s wards. But if by some miracle you manage to get inside, and by some bigger miracle that demon spawn is still on the premises...” he held up his hands in a staying gesture as Rodolphus growled. “You are not going to meet up with me. You are going to take the baby and run. Like you’ve been planning for the last six months. Probably longer.”

Rodolphus blinked, his previous anger forgotten in light of his brother’s accusation.

“I, I didn’t, when did… how-”

“You’re clever, Rod. But no one knows you better than me. Not even Bella, as much as you’d like to pretend otherwise. I knew from the moment we returned to find her six months gone you were going to pretend the child was your own, no matter the personal sacrifice. That’s how it’s always been for you when it came to her.”

Hearing his brother speak in the past tense about his wife reawakened the ache in his chest, but he couldn’t find the words to argue. It was true. He’d been making sacrifices to remain at Bella’s side from the moment they met.

“And after the baby was born I watched you with her. Holding her, playing with her, reading to her. I knew you had no desire to share with anyone but Bella. I knew you were planning to run. I just prayed I’d be able to talk you out of it before the Dark Lord caught on and executed you on sight.” 

“I…” Rodolphus’s first instinct was to deny everything, but he was utterly exhausted and didn’t see the point, “Yes. I was planning to run. But I was going to take Bella with me, we were going to be a proper family.”

“You know in your heart she would strike you dead before leaving His side.”

The voices were close now, the light of wands filtering through the black branches of their sparse cover.  It was now or never. If they stood here a moment longer they would be discovered.

Rodolphus had never felt so defeated, not even after fourteen years in that cell. Because now Bella was gone. Truly gone, with no way to bring her back.  

“I know. You’re right, Rab. I’ve always known Bella was never really mine. From the moment he branded her I knew she never would be. And I know the baby isn’t mine. But I’ve lost too much this night. I wont lose her, too.”

They spent a precious few seconds looking at each other before Rabastan stuck out his hand.

“Goodbye then, brother.”

Rodolphus grasped it tightly once, twice, and then let go, feeling the absence of his brother’s touch like a severed limb.

The voices were upon them now, the glow of several lumos mere yards away.

“Goodbye, Rab.”

And then brother’s raised their wands and moved in unison once more, turning away from each other and apparating into the dark night.


	3. Chapter Three

**May 2, 1998**   
**Malfoy Manor**

Rodolphus landed in the thick foliage of the woods surrounding the back of Malfoy Manor. The moonlight illuminated the grand estate from its backdrop of darkness as though materializing from an endless abyss. He brandished his wand, casting diagnostic charms on the wards that lied just ahead. They came back with no signs of being tampered, but if what Snape said was to be believed and the Order really did enter the Manor earlier this night there would have to be some evidence of their visit.

Unless Snape lied. Oh, Rodolphus fully believed that Snape was a spy for the enemy and a master of deceit without an honorable bone in his body. But perhaps he was lying about destroying the time turner to prevent Rodolphus from pursuing it.

Only one thing was certain, Rodolphus couldn’t linger in these woods for long. Either the Order awaited him inside or they didn’t, and if they weren’t already here they surely would arrive soon.

He took a deep breath and took a step forward through the wards, feeling the tingle along his Dark Mark that allowed him entrance. He moved quickly through the garden and past the magical Koi pond, mindful of stepping on any sleeping peacocks and giving away his location.

He paused by the French doors, glancing into the darkness within. He had a good glimpse of the ballroom and part of the dining hall, seeing no movement. He slipped inside and cast a silencing spell on his footsteps, followed by a revelio spell to detect any human presences within the property line. Three lights appeared with one hovering near his face and the other two darting towards the grand staircase. He quickly canceled the spell before the moving lights could complete their decent.

He couldn’t be certain who the remaining presences in the house were. One could be the baby, but he couldn’t begin to guess who the other occupant was or where they were hiding. Or perhaps both presences were Order members, lying in wait for him to reveal himself.

He’d come too far to stop now. He kept close to the walls, moving through heavy shadows as he darted to the stairs and pausing before setting foot in the entrance hall. He needed to cross the large marble foyer to get to the staircase, leaving himself exposed from all sides. It was now or never. In a burst of speed that tapped into the last of his energy reserves he bolted across the marble and up the massive set of stairs in the center.

Upon reaching the first landing he spun around with his wand at the ready but saw no foe at his back. Knowing at least one more person was within the home put him on high alert, he strained to hear every noise and catch every movement.

He proceeded up the second set of steps leading to the nursery at the end of the hall. The door was open ajar, a soft light filtering through and illuminating the opposite wall. He slid through the shadows and peered through the opening, seeing the edge of a crib and an elderly elf sitting in the rocking chair across the room. There was only a few candles lit within, casting shadows all over the walls and ceiling. He sensed no other movement and could hear the baby’s soft breath as she slept.

Swallowing thickly, he entered the room. The elf sat up on high alert, it’s special brand of magic crackling in the air before the small creature recognized the wizard standing before her and quickly reined her power in.

“Master Lestrange! I was not expecting you. Is everything alright?”

“The Dark Lord has fallen. The Manor is no longer secure. I’m taking the baby somewhere safe. You are excused from your duties.”

He delivered the words succinctly and with no emotion, already moving towards the sleeping infant.

“And what of Mistress Lestrange?”

The innocent question drove a dagger through his heart. So focused on his mission to retrieve the child he was able to block out the memory of his wife’s death for a few precious moments. Now the events of the night came crashing down on him once more, robbing him of breath.

The elf seemed to understand the meaning behind his silence and began to weep heavily. Rodolphus thought it ironic a creature he did not know the name of wept for his dead wife when he had yet to shed a tear.

He brought his focus back to the baby sleeping on her stomach within the crib. She had a multitude of toys and pacifiers surrounding her. She looked so peaceful, so angelic. Such a pure and lovely creature existing within these dark and cursed walls was surreal. He reached out and gently took her in his arms, caressing her dark wisps of hair and whispering soothingly as she began to stir.

As he made to turn and exit the room the candlelight caught the metallic glint of an object hanging from the post of the crib. He spent more time in this nursery than even the elves and knew that whatever this item was it had not been there when he paid his visit prior to leaving for the battle.

He slowly reached out and grabbed the object, realizing it was a long, solid gold chain with a large heavy pendant dangling at the bottom. He repositioned the six month old in one arm as he held the necklace towards the light for closer inspection.

His breath caught. Or perhaps his heart stopped beating, for just a moment, long enough to weaken his knees and cause him to sway where he stood.

A time turner.

How in the world? Snape had lied… but why move the relic to the nursery?

But wait, wasn’t the time turner the Dark Lord secured a tarnished silver? Rodolphus’s mind was spinning too quickly to relive the memory in enough detail to know for sure, but his gut instinct told him this was a different item. How did it get here?

“Who put this item on the crib?” Rodolphus demanded, jarring the elf from her wracking sobs.

“P-p-pardon?”

He rounded on her quickly, seeing the flash of fear in her eyes as he towered over her, even with the baby still tight in his grip.

“This!” He shook the chain before her face, “Who put this here?”

“I’m sorry, Sir, I don’t know!”

“Who else has been in the nursery tonight?”

“I- I don’t know-”

“How can you not know?” He was shaking with rage, mindless of his raised voice and his mission to remain as silent and invisible as possible until he could apparate away with the child.

The elf was quaking with fear, cowering and making broken noises, none of which was discernable to his ears. If he weren’t still holding the babe he would throttle the wretched creature beneath him.

He forced himself to take a deep breath. There was no time to interrogate the little beast. It didn’t matter how the time turner got here. It didn’t matter that it may be different than the one he first laid eyes on two weeks prior.

All that mattered was whether it was functional.

For all he knew this was a trapped laid by Snape. It may have been cursed, though he felt no adverse effects upon his person yet.

Just then a creak sounded on the floorboards outside the nursery. Rodolphus spun on his heel, quickly hanging the chain around his neck so he could free his hand to brandish his wand at the open doorway.

He saw nothing emerge from the shadows outside the room, but he could sense another presence as surely as he could sense a Dementor passing his cell.

“Who’s there?” He yelled, knowing it was fruitless to pretend someone wasn’t hiding just outside.

No response came. He looked down at the now fully awake baby, briefly considering putting her back into the crib and exploring the hall outside alone but quickly dismissing the idea, he needed to get out of here as quickly as possible and couldn’t afford to be separated from her now.

He glanced back quickly at the elf, “Do you know of any one else in the Manor?”

She shook her head, large wet eyes shining up at him in fear.

“I need to get the baby out of here. If something happens to me, you need to apparate away with her. Go to the Rowle Estate. If I’m not able to come I will send someone in my place to retrieve her. Are you able to do this?”

She quickly nodded her assent.

“Good. Stay here. It won’t do us any good if we’re both incapacitated.”

With his final commands executed, he clutched the infant tighter to his chest and slowly emerged from the nursery. An Order member would never cast upon him with a child in his arms, and any of his fellow Death Eaters could only aid his escape, unless there were more traitors among their ranks. He kept his wand at the ready, not trusting anyone other than the innocent babe playing idly with the golden chain around his neck.

As he slowly entered the hallway he cast a lumos and looked both ways, seeing no one else along either end of the corridor. He began his descent towards the main stairs, heart pounding rapidly in his ears and muffling the world around him. He had so much adrenaline in his system he was poised to strike at even the slightest disturbance.

Just as he turned the corner he heard the faint sound of rapid footsteps beyond the next turn. Deciding it was better to face the threat head on than let it linger in the darkness. Rodolphus pushed ahead, towards the exit and the noise.

He peered out from the second landing and saw a flash of platinum hair and a tall darkly clad body ascending the stairs on the opposite side of the second level, disappearing around the corner within seconds.

Draco?

Whoever it was possessed the unmistakable shock of white blonde the Malfoys were famous for. This person’s hair was much too short for it to be Lucius, but based on his brief glimpse of the mystery runner their body seemed more filled out than Rodolphus remembered Draco’s wiry frame to be. Still. Who else could it possibly be?

They were in dark clothing, running away like coward. Certainly it must have been Lucius’s boy. Probably fled the battle long before it was over and hidden away in his family home, crying into his bed sheets. Rodolphus’s presence must have scared him from his hiding spot. He was running to evade punishment for abandoning his post.

Yes. That must be it. Because Rodolphus’s overactive mind couldn’t formulate any other explanations, and he couldn’t afford to linger any longer. The person clearly was not here to fight him, or challenge his claim on the babe. Therefore they were a non-entity.

He took a steadying breath and emerged from behind the wall, taking the stairs two at a time as he flew down to the grand staircase, his eyes glued to the Manor main entrance. To freedom. It was so close he could taste it.

He was already formulating plans for where to apparate next when he felt the wards shift, though they weren’t being bombarded. Whoever disturbed them was simply passing through, not needing to break the heavy barrier to gain entrance.

Which meant they bore a Dark Mark.

Rodolphus froze in the middle of the foyer; desperately hoping Rabastan had a change of heart and came to assist his escape after all.

But of course, Rodolphus’s life had never held good fortune.

The Manor’s massive doors parted to reveal a furious looking Snape; black robes billowing around him like smoke, dried blood caking his face and neck.

“Fucking hell.” Rodolphus shook his head. “Look what the kneazle dragged in. You look like shit, Snape.”

“Someone dropped a ceiling on me.”

“Huh… I don’t think that’s it.”

Snape raised his wand with a sneer and prompted Rodolphus to do the same.

“I know you’re barely competent at magic, Lestrange, but using a baby in place of a shield charm is a cowardly tactic, even for you.”

“Get the fuck out of my way, Snape, I won’t hesitate to finish the job my brother started.”

“Your brother is as much of a coward and incompetent fool as you. Blasting a hole in the ceiling and running away rather than dueling like a proper wizard. Disgraces, the both of you.”

Rodolphus’s body tensed; ready to unleash hell on the traitorous leech blocking the exit, when the little girl in his arms started to fuss as if sensing the dangerous tension in the air.

“Put the child down, Lestrange, and fight me like a man.”

“Don’t see how that would make things any fairer, you cockless piece of-”

“Language, you Neanderthal! Have you forgotten the child you’re using as a flesh shield? I shudder to hear her first words.”

“You won't be around for those, Severus. You won't be seeing either of us ever again. The only thing up for debate is whether you live to see the morning. Get out of my way and be free of me. No more blood needs to be shed.”

Snape’s face contorted into its signature look of incredulity.

“Rodolphus Lestrange has an aversion to bloodshed? This truly is a historical night. Tell me, Rodolphus, is it fatherhood that has changed you so or finally being free of that crazed homicidal maniac you called a wife?”

If Snape was looking for a reaction he certainly succeeded, throwing up a shield just in time for Rodolphus’s killing curse to explode against it.

“Ah, that’s more like it.”

“Don’t you dare mention my wife! You fucking traitor! You did this! You fucking destroyed my life!”

“Is that so? I convinced you to take the Mark? Tricked you into torturing the Longbottoms? Abandoned you at the Department of Mysteries?”

His words burned like acid from the inside out.

“No, Rodolphus. I don’t think I’m the one who destroyed you. Tortured, emasculated and abandoned you. That was someone else. But you’re in luck. That person is gone from this world and can never hurt you again. However, that does not change the fact that I cannot let you leave. The Order are on their way here now, you’ll never be able to fight them all. There’s no way out this time. It’s over.”

Rodolphus swallowed heavily.

“What will happen to her?”

As if sensing Snape’s cold, critical eyes upon her the baby stopped fussing and turned to lock gazes with the skilled Occlumens. Even at six months old her stare held a surreal power over everyone who came under her scrutiny. It was the one characteristic that made it impossible for Rodolphus to pretend she was of his own flesh and blood, for the only person to possess such an intense and consuming stare was her true father.

Rodolphus knew that Snape was similarly affected when he had to physically turn his face away to break her gaze.

“Everyone who knows of her true lineage is bound to secrecy. The papers you forged make her a Rowle, and it is my understanding Euphemia is similarly obligated to care for the child until she comes of age. This is the plan you put together in the event something like this happened, was it not? Unless it was merely a cover to hide your true intentions…” Snape trailed off knowingly.

Condescending, smug ugly bastard. He clearly knew Rodolphus had been up to something for the last few months. Whether he knew the extent of his planning was the question. Had the Order seized the money he’d been stashing away, the properties he purchased around the world? Were there any resources left to help him now?

He peered down at the babe in his arms; she had lost interest in Snape and was fixated on the chain around his neck, twisting the gold around her fingers.

The time turner.

Rodolphus could have collapsed under the weight of his relief. In all the commotion of spotting Draco and Snape’s untimely appearance he’d nearly forgotten the precious trinket lying against his chest.

He quickly considered his options. He could set the baby aside and happily strike the traitor dead, but there was no telling how long that would take and he didn’t doubt the Order was on their way to the Manor and every other Death Eater keep. He didn’t have any more time to waste mincing words with Snape or running diagnostics on the validity of the time turner.

Worst-case scenario, it was fake and merely an elaborate hoax to steal his last bit of hope and dignity. He’d be no worse off than he was right now. However, if it was real and he was able to go back even an hour perhaps he could salvage the pieces of his broken life and tip the scales in his Dark Lord’s favor…

Rodolphus felt a warm flush throughout his body as his mind spun other fantasies, of him and Bella and the baby in a villa in Italy, sunlight spilling through the vaulted windows and illuminating Bella’s dark, luscious curls as she tossed back her head and laughed in pure unadulterated joy.

Maybe there was a way for him to have it all. He could go back and ensure Bella made it through the Battle alive while leaving his former Master to his fate. Bella would finally be cleaved of her obsession to the powerful wizard. She’d have no choice but to run away with him to evade the Order. He’d take care of her and the baby. Merlin, he might finally be able to convince her to have a child that was truly his. They’d be a family. Everything he’d dreamed from the first moment he laid eyes on her would finally become reality.

Precious hope filled his heart as he extracted the chain from the baby’s tiny fist and dangled the pendant before his eyes.

“Where did you get that?”

Snape’s look of pure shock was all the evidence Rodolphus needed to ascertain Severus was not the person who planted the necklace in the nursery.

“I destroyed the time turner myself hours ago. Where did you get that one?” Snape’s voice was laced with panic now.

That confirmed Rodolphus’s earlier suspicion. He knew the Dark Lord’s time turner was silver, not gold. Was it possible that he’d hidden away another as backup? But why would it be on the crib? Who was meant to find it?

There was an exploding force against the wards surrounding the Manor. The Order was here. Rodolphus felt his resolve strengthen. Damn the details. He would make use of this miracle gift and fix everything.

“Rodolphus!” Snape tried to regain his attention, unable to launch any curses without risk to the baby cradled to his chest. “Rodolphus, I promise you, going back a few hours won't change anything. This is a battle the Dark Lord was never to win. His fate was sealed the moment the prophecy was made. You can’t change things.”

“Then why do you look so nervous?”

Snape’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening on his wand.

Just as the wards came crashing down and the sound of multiple apparition filled the air Rodolphus shifted his wand to the hand still on the baby and grasped the pendant in the other. He flicked the rotating center as hard as he could, hearing it spin round and round as he gazed down at the beautiful little girl. She would disappear from sight any moment, the present reality dissolving to give way to the past.

He was vaguely aware of shouting and explosions surrounding him from all sides. The noises sounded muffled and far away. The world around him started to blur. He didn’t see Snape shoot the killing curse at his head, forgoing the child’s safety in his desperation to prevent one of the Dark Lord’s most dangerous followers from reversing this night’s victory. He also didn’t notice the baby twining her littlest finger around the golden chain that was so very memorizing to her infant eyes.

Just as Rodolphus faded from existence and Snape’s curse shot through the empty space he no longer vacated, his parting words still lingered in the air.

“I’ll make this right, Delphi.”


	4. Chapter Four

**May 2, ????**   
**Malfoy Manor**

Rodolphus was forced to close his eyes after the first few seconds, the rapidly spinning world causing major vertigo. He felt strangely aware of a weight against his arm as if the baby was still there, which he knew was impossible. It must have been a phantom sensation but he kept his arm curled into his chest just the same. Lingering to the feeling of the child’s weight as long as he could was a small comfort. Thinking of the little girl and her deep blue, intelligent eyes gave him the strength to stay rooted in place instead of collapsing in a heap as his quivering muscles threatened to do.

Finally everything went still and silent and dark. He briefly wondered if he was dead before remembering to open his eyes. Still he was surrounded by utter blackness. He wondered if he went blind. Perhaps the time turner threw him into a black abyss, an endless void with no matter or light, an eternal emptiness to match his heart and ravage his mind.

But then he registered a delicate whimper beyond the sound of his own ragged breaths. Swallowing thickly he grappled with his wand and cast a silent lumos, his lungs rapidly deflating in relief when the light immediately became visible though his surroundings were still clouded in darkness.

But what immediately drew his gaze was the baby still clutched in his arm. Delphi happily wrapped the gold chain around her tiny fingers and stuffed them in her mouth with a pleased mewl.

What…? How…?

Rodolphus slowly reached out to touch her, as if in a dream he feared jolting awake from. He gently drew the baby’s fist from between her lips, a trail of spittle following in its wake. It dawned on him that she must have been grasping the chain as he activated the time turner, effectively turning her into a passenger along for the ride.

She seemed remarkably at ease after the draining journey, Rodolphus still felt his knees quaking from the magical storm that raged around him as they spun into the past. Perhaps his fatigue was the result of the night’s many battles and not the time travel itself? He could think of no other explanation for why he felt like death warmed over yet the infant remained rosy cheeked and bright eyed, squealing in protest as he wrestled the chain from her surprisingly strong grasp.

Yes, that must be it. The adrenaline rush that pushed him through the final moments of the battle and subsequent baby rescue had faded and left his energy reserves at an all time low. His knees popped loudly as he adjusted his stance, a bitter reminder he had yet to properly heal the joint.

Once upon a time he was able to spend hours running full speed ahead and firing powerful curses with exhaustless energy. Azkaban wracked havoc on his health but he could never remember being this tired, this utterly drained. He feared dropping the babe so he slowly lowered himself into a sitting position, groaning as his weight settled upon the unforgiving cold marble. After sitting her on the ground before him he finally spared an upward glance at his dark surroundings. He cast lumos maxima into the air; the ball of white light gently hovered several feet above their heads and bringing the world back into view.

Thank Merlin he was already sitting because the sight that met his eyes would have surely knocked him to the floor.

He remained in the same foyer where he stood when Snape tried halting his escape. Any yet… everything was… different. The room was darker, colder, emptier. He started to catalogue each anomaly his eyes came across.

The massive black and white marble dragon statues that stood on either side of the main doors were gone, though he noticed a deep crack in the marble where the left one once stood. The entryway tables were covered in white sheets. The massive stained glass windows were boarded up, the drapes removed. The room itself felt deathly cold. In fact, Rodolphus let out a deep breath and realized he could see his exhale in a cloud before him. He quickly pulled Del off the freezing tiles and into his lap, casting warming charms against her tiny body and gently rubbing his hands up and down her arms to remove the gooseflesh.

It was still the Manor, architecturally speaking, but it certainly wasn’t the Manor from earlier that evening. Or even earlier that year. In fact, his exhausted mind couldn’t pull any memory of when the property had looked so empty and abandoned.

Speaking of abandoned…

Rodolphus cast a revelio, sagging in relief when the spell revealed only himself and the baby in the large home. He silently cursed his exhausted mind for not casting the detection spell immediately upon arriving. He was normally much more cautious, especially where the baby was concerned. But right now it was a struggle to not fall asleep where he sat.

But tired as he may be his mind refused to shut down fully until he knew Delphini was safe. And right now his every instinct screamed at him that something was terribly, terribly wrong.

Reaching deep inside for every last bit of strength and resolve, he gathered the infant into his arms once again and slowly rose to his feet. He took a steadying breath before pushing himself forward and across the foyer. He looked to either side, the hovering light illuminating the entrance to the dining hall and the main lounge. Both were cloaked in total darkness. He looked over his shoulder at the grand staircase and saw sheet covered furniture on the first landing. Something about the very walls felt off but he couldn’t place what was different. Maybe the wallpaper? Wait a moment… the wallpaper…

He realized he was noticing the deep green color for the first time because so much of it was exposed. There was slight discoloration in some places where the color was faded and sun washed, and other patches that were much more vibrant. Several portraits were missing. Including the massive Malfoy family painting that hung dead center above the stairs.

Rodolphus shook his head, feeling a clammy sweat beginning to bead along his skin. What the hell had happened? How far back did he go? To his knowledge even the most powerful time turners could only send passengers back a few hours. However he recalled a few tales from his school days of unfortunate souls traveling years, even centuries into the past. Had he been the victim of such a powerful instrument? Is that why he found the necklace hanging so casually from the corner of the crib, a blatant temptation planted to trap him somewhere so far in the past he would no longer be a problem to the present?

But wouldn’t sending him further back make more of an impact on the future, causing an even larger domino effect upon history? Anyone talented and knowledgeable enough to create such a powerful device would surely grasp the dangers involved with sending anyone back too far. Surely he couldn’t be that far removed?

He needed to know the date immediately to stop the panic from rising any higher. He was physically drained but he needed to keep his mind unclouded and sharp until they were safe. He spun in a circle as though a calendar would materialize if he wished hard enough. He settled for a tempus spell, the soft green light revealing it was less than an hour to midnight. But he didn’t know how to alter the spell to show the date, or if that was even a possibility. And given the state of the manor, he highly doubted any current time and date tracking device resided within. He certainly didn’t want to linger looking for one. Seeing the Manor in this state only increased the sinister feeling settling into his bones.

“Time to leave,” he muttered to the babe in his arms. The combination of the warming spell and his body heat had lulled her into a drowsy state, her eyes drifting closed and limbs going lax. He hoped she’d fall completely under soon. She was a good sleeper from the time she was born and once she was out he knew he’d have at least a few hours of her silence to help keep them under the radar as he figured things out.

Once she was fully awake she was usually vocal and very curious, grabbing at everything and throwing little tantrums when denied the objects of her interest. He already suspected he’d need to remove the time turner pendant from the chain she was so fascinated by. She was partial to shiny things. Rodolphus charmed all her pacifiers to have a metallic sheen. Hopefully the chain would tide her over and keep her appeased when she finally awoke.

But right now he needed to work fast and make the most of her pliant state. He spared one last glance around the desolate Manor before opening one of the main doors and stepping out into the night.

A warm breeze that sharply contrasted with how freezing it was within the house greeted him. He sucked in a deep breath of fresh air, smelling fresh and sweet notes of floral and citrus. Even in the darkness he could tell the landscaping was well maintained. The garden at the front of the estate was still lush and vibrant as ever. That was a comforting thought; at least the Manor wasn’t completely abandoned. Though upon closer inspection he noticed the massive fountain was dry as a bone.

Remembering that his revelio spell detected no other presences within the boundaries of the property line that stretch all the way to the rod iron gate at the end of the drive, Rodolphus walked along the main path without fear of exposure. It wasn’t until he got to the gate that he hesitated.

He could feel wards here. Interesting. These were not the same as before. They didn’t appear to be keyed to his Dark Mark. He cast a few simple diagnostic spells but they didn’t reveal anything sinister. In fact, these seemed to be standard bloodline wards. It appeared only members and close relations of the Malfoy family could gain entry.

He wondered if they had tripped some silent alarm when they appeared within the ward boundaries after using the time turner. Or perhaps the wards didn’t activate because they appeared out of thin air within the home versus crossing the threshold. Or a third and most desirable option, maybe Delphi shared enough blood with the Malfoys that the wards recognized her as one of their own, letting her come and go as she pleased with her guest in tow.

Really, there was only one way to find out. Either they’d allow him through without problem or form a solid shield he’d have to blast his way through.

He grit his teeth, bracing himself for the worst. It was just one of those nights.

But to his supreme relief he was able to pass the hand not holding the baby right through the gate without issue. He could feel the magic tingle along his skin, racing along his nerve endings like a blanket encasing his entire being. Then the magic centered on the babe sleeping soundly against his chest. He felt her briefly stir as the magic undoubtedly raced along her skin as well.

It would seem the wards recognized her as a Malfoy relation. He never thought he’d see the day he was thankful for her bloodlines.

Crossing the ward threshold he quickly considered his options. He had a burning desire to apparate to Lestrange Mansion and look for Bella. But if they really were in the past he needed to figure out how far back they travelled before making contact with anyone else, especially those closest to him. He knew that the golden rule of time travel was to make as little impact on the past as possible to ensure a future you could recognize. The last thing he wanted was to erase his or Del’s own existence.

What a mess… where should he even start?

He was suddenly reminded of the night of the mass prison break. If he closed his eyes he could transport himself there instantly.

_He heard the explosion and felt the ground shake as a massive hole was blown into the side of the tower. The raging black sea crashed violently from all sides and sprayed against his skin for the first time in fourteen years. He could taste the salt._

_An imperiused guard shoved wands in his and Bella’s trembling hands. To hold a wand again after so long… it was euphoric and fragile and devastating all at once. So much was happening all around… screaming, spell fire, billowing smoke… it was sensory overload. He squeezed his eyes shut to block out the sights and sounds that raged around them._

_But of course Bella was already casting a killing curse at the same guard who supplied them the wands. She blinked as he fell into a dead heap, as though surprised the spell actually worked. But of course in the next moment she was flying into action, crossing over to the newly formed doorway that led to a dead drop straight into the North Sea. She leaned over fearlessly and screamed into the wind. The primal sound drove him to finally open his eyes._

_He stared blankly at the dead guard. Then he felt bony fingers digging into his gaunt cheekbones as his head was forcibly turned in the other direction. He was face to face with his wife, their noses almost touching as she peered deep into his eyes. Fourteen years in the same cell and he couldn’t recall the last time she willingly met his gaze._

_“Roddy, my darling, we don’t have much time. I can hear them racing up the stairs, can’t you? We must apparate.”_

_He blinked._

_“On no! Do not do this to me now! Snap out of it!”_

_Suddenly his head was jolted sharply to the side, a bright sting of pain registering a second later and the sound of skin slapping against skin coming in last. He would later realize this was what shock felt like, and how very useless that made a person, and how very lucky he was to have Bella at his side that night._

_She could have easily left him there. She could have justified it a hundred different ways, after all they both had wands and the enemy was closing in on them with each passing second… but she came through for them both._

_“Come along, Roddy, yes, very good, that’s it, just a bit further…”_

_He allowed her to drag and maneuver him towards the gaping hole in the side of the tower, smoke still wafting off the scorched stone._

_“Alright, listen very closely to me now… the anti-apparition wards are still up, I can feel them radiating along the perimeter, can’t you?”_

_He blinked._

_She scowled and cursed but kept maneuvering him nonetheless._

_“Merlin! For a living skeleton you weigh a fucking ton! Okay here we are. I need you to pull yourself together. We haven’t much time. I have no idea how many people are trying to break down that door outside but I suspect they are not here to assist us or they’d already have the key,” she seemed amused at her own wonderings and tittered a bit hysterically before gazing into the sea once more._

_“Alright, Roddy, we’re going to have to do this the fun way! Are you ready?”_

_Sensing her momentum towards the black water cleared some of the fog away from his mind._

_“We’re going to… jump?”_

_“Thank fucking Circe! I thought the explosion scrambled what was left of your brain. Yes, we’re going to jump, we have no other way past the wards.”_

_He swallowed thickly and gazed into the watery abyss raging beneath them._

_“We’ll drown.”_

_“Yes, probably.”_

_Their gazes locked._

_“Better to drown out there than die in here, don’t you think, darling?” The moonlight glinted off her eyes, they were more bright and clear than he’d seen in years. The sight filled him with hope and cleared away more of his haziness._

_“Wait… we…. we’re… going to… jump?”_

_Just them the iron door groaned loudly, almost blown from its hinges by powerful bombardas on the other side._

_“Yes, we must jump. Try to apparate mid air if you can manage. We’ll likely break every bone in our bodies if we hit the water. But if you do hit the water, try your very best to drown. Should they pull you out I don’t think I’d like to return here to rescue you.”_

_Her words went in one ear and out the other._

_“We’re going to jump?”_

_As if on cue the door was blasted from its frame and flew across the hall outside their cell. The sound of shouting and pounding footsteps echoing from every stone was almost deafening. His vision started to blur once more._

_“Never mind that! Just hold my hand and no matter what- don’t let go!”_

_She pulled him off the ledge behind her before she finished saying ‘go’, the last syllable turning into a wail as they both fell endlessly through the night._

_Icy cold wind rushed up to meet them and cut painfully against their skin. A rainbow array of curses raced towards them from above as Aurors aimed their wands into the darkness and fired at random._

_Just as he saw the water come into view beneath them, a cavernous mouth about to swallow them into a dark abyss, he felt the long forgotten but always familiar tug behind his navel. Just before the magic fully enveloped him he felt his toes breach the icy water, cold as death._

Rodolphus blinked.

He was so taken in by the powerful memory tears welled in his eyes and caused his vision to blur once more. He breathed heavily, trying to rein his emotions until they were somewhere safe and he was able to push ahead.

However reliving that traumatic night was good for one thing… he remembered where Bella apparated them to.

It was as good a place to start as any.


	5. Chapter Five

**May 2, ????**   
**Isle of Man**

Rodolphus was relieved to see the entrance to Maughold Path was still the same as he remembered from his numerous visits throughout his childhood and the few times with Bella in tow.

Upon arriving in the Isle of Man Rodolphus and Delphi appeared in the middle of a large green field, the only source of light coming from the soft glow of the moon above. He was relieved to see it wasn’t full, the island once had a small werewolf community that eventually migrated to England, but depending on how far back in history they traveled he thought it best not to linger out in open fields for the next few nights.

The entrance to the magical community was disguised as ruins, much like Hogwarts, though the ruins were much smaller and less of an attractive nuisance to muggles. As he walked up to one of the toppled stones he knelt down carefully and tapped on one of its deeply carved ruins three times with his wand.

He retook his feet and watched with bated breath as the magical shield fell away to grant him entrance. The ground caved in to reveal a set of stone steps where firelight and melodic flute music floated up to greet him.

Bloody hell… was he back in the Middle Ages? His mind ran wild with all the possibilities of what kind of world he was about to step into as he slowly descended the stairs into the magical underground of the Isle of Man.

As the ground resealed above him he had no choice but to move forward, the only way to exit Maughold Path was on the opposite side. It was time to see how bad things really were…

As he entered the main street from his little offshoot staircase the most beautiful site to ever befall his eyes, besides Bella and Del of course, greeted him.

Modern shops. Modern clothing. Modern speech.

He almost collapsed in relief, instead settling for a joyous laugh that earned him more than a few curious stares from nearby patrons. One witch’s look of surprise turned into something his exhausted mind vaguely recognized as an attempt at seduction. Based on the amount of shoddy beauty glamours applied to her face and the state of her scant clothing he suspected she was a working girl trying to disguise her age. He briefly debated humoring the wench long enough to manipulate information out of her, but then she winked saucily and licked her lips and his disgust overrode all other thoughts.

Just as quickly dismissing the harlot he turned his attention to the crowd, mostly drunks and vagrants at this hour of night. The street was alight from the glow of taverns and eateries open all night. Most other stores were encased in darkness, closed until morning. He adjusted the weight of the baby held beneath his cloak to mask her from prying eyes. He thought it best to avoid curious stares as to why a man carried an infant through the streets at night.

Which reminded him of his need to find shelter as soon as possible. Though it was still seasonably warm as springtime swept across the island the night brought with it a cool breeze. He was also in desperate need of sleep, and there was no way he’d risk unconsciousness with the baby unguarded.

He felt in his pocket for his Galleons. He was grateful he had the forethought to fill his pockets with currency before departing for the battle. He wanted to be prepared for any outcome, especially with the fear and paranoia that had been riding him hard all morning. Seemed his dark premonition paid off. He’d at least be able to afford for his and the baby’s keep for a fortnight.

He made his way down the street keeping to shadows and hiding the lower half of his face beneath the high collar of his cloak. The fewer who saw his face the better. Passing the Chocolatier Shoppe he slowed, peering through the large window at the empty confection trays inside. The dark interior made it possible for him to see his own reflection in the glass and for a moment he could easily envision Bella standing at his side, pointing at the sweets on displayed with a smile.

_“I want one of everything.”_

_“Do you now?”_

_“Yes, is that a problem?” She met his eye in challenge, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth._

_“Not at all. But perhaps it would be easier for me to just purchase the whole Shoppe. That way we don’t have to share with anyone else.”_

_“What a marvelous idea. You’re learning, Lestrange. Good boy.”_

_As she turned her attention back to the window he couldn’t help but smile in triumph. As hard as she tried to pretend indifferent to him all these months later, he knew he had finally worked his way beneath her skin. She now only referred to him by his surname when trying to avoid becoming too close. So hearing his last name on her tongue was merely an assurance that she was starting to like him more than she was comfortable admitting. And that made him very happy._

_“Perhaps before undertaking such a large investment we should sample their offerings?”_

_“Whatever you wish, Mistress Black.”_

_“My, my… you_ are _learning.”_

_He held the door open for her and as she passed she met his gaze head on and flashed her most radiant smile. It took his breath away. He realized in that moment he was well and truly gone for her._

Rodolphus sighed and looked away from the Shoppe window. He couldn’t get trapped in such memories or they’d bury him. He turned back towards the road and kept walking.

Up ahead was the only hotel in the community. There were stores and residences that rented out spare rooms but the majority would be closed at this hour. It was the same hotel he stayed in with Bella. The thought twisted the knife in his heart but he saw no other option. If he was on his own he’d rather sleep in an alley with his wand gripped at the ready.

 _But you’re not on your own_ , he reminded himself, glancing at the softly breathing lump beneath his cloak. _You must stop thinking that way if you want to keep her safe._

One major benefit of this particular establishment was they were happy to forgo any identification in place of an extra few galleons slipped under the table. They were also able to accommodate his request for a room overlooking the main road. He needed to apprised of any approaching threat.

But most importantly, he needed to know the fucking date.

“Here is the key to your room, sir. Would you like me to escort you up?”

“Thank you, but that wont be necessary.” He nearly admitted to being a guest here once before and remembering the layout but thought it best not to reveal too much. “I’m sure I’ll be able to manage. Would you happen to have an extra newspaper?”

This seemed a more subtle approach than outright asking for the date and year. Considering he preferred to pay in cash, withheld his identity and was clearly hiding something under his robes he couldn’t afford to raise any further suspicion.

“I’m sorry, sir, I do not. I can arrange to have a newspaper delivered to your room in the morning, however. Will the local edition suffice?”

“Yes, it will. And what time do your kitchens open?”

“At six, sir.”

Hopefully Del would continue to sleep until then.

“Excellent. Thank you.”

Rodolphus nodded to the man and made his way to the lift. This was a far cry from the fancy establishments he was used to staying in during his youth and while vacationing abroad, but considering he’d also spent half his adult life in a prison cell he knew how to appreciate even the most basic luxuries. The lift didn’t have an attendant on duty, and while his younger self would surely turn his nose up at having to operate the equipment himself, all Rodolphus could think at present was thank fucking Merlin he didn’t have to use the stairs.

As soon as Rodolphus entered the room he bolted the lock and cast additional wards beyond the standard privacy shields the hotel used. He turned the lights on dim and laid Delphi upon the large bed. She stirred only once before slipping back into a deep slumber.

He grabbed spare blankets and pillows from the closet and stacked them into a cushioned wall surrounding her. At six months she wasn’t outright crawling but could easily roll and push herself up, managing to squirm short distances when trying to reach the object of her interest. And if denied that object she was known to throw quite the tantrum. She was certainly a determined babe.

But right now she was blessedly silent, giving him time to think. He needed to come up with a game plan. He needed to know if Bella was still alive, he had to see her…

Sighing deeply he cast an alarm over the perimeter of the bed to notify him if she rolled too close to the edge or if someone else tried to move her… he wasn’t taking any chances. Staring at the sleeping babe he decided all was calm enough for him to quickly bathe. The warm spray always helped clear his racing mind.

But once he stepped free of the water he was no closer to solution than when he arrived. And the moment he laid next to Delphi on the bed he felt his consciousness fading fast. Before fully falling under he cast a tempus with an alarm for dawn. His eyes finally closed and his mind drifted to the foggy dreamscape between memory and fantasy.

_“Roddy! Open your eyes! Are you splinched?”_

_Rodolphus blinked slowly, taking in a vast night sky. Stars overtook his vision and wet grass filled his clenched fists. Suddenly Bella’s pale gaunt face hovered above him. Her grey eyes became a beacon, grounding him in the reality that whether they were dead or alive, at least they were still together._

_“Rod! Circe’s sagging tits! Will you snap out of it? I don’t have the strength to levitate you!”_

_He slowly reached up a hand and touched the side of her face. The contact seemed to startle her, though she made a concerted effort not to pull away. The steel in her gaze dragged him back to rational thought._

_“Where are we?”_

_“Thank Merlin. If you’d asked ‘Did we jump’ I’d slap you again. We’re outside the entrance to Maughold. I forgot which symbol to tap, you’ll have to open it.”_

_Rodolphus slowly sat up and took in his surroundings. He spotted the ruins a few feet away._

_“Why did you bring us here?”_

_“Seemed as good a place as any.”_

_He slowly rose to his feet, stumbling a bit before finally regaining his balance. Bella seemed equally disjointed, lurching in his wake towards the ancient stones._

_“Fuck it my ankle is killing me. I think you landed on it.”_

_“Sorry about that.”_

_“I’ll get you back, don’t you worry.”_

_Rodolphus smiled at her casual threat. Fourteen years in the bowels of hell couldn’t snuff out her fire. Merlin he loved her._

_“Stop making pathetic doe eyes and open the fucking thing.”_

_He leaned over to inspect the large stone column laying in the field. Spotting the correct symbol carved into the side he lifted the strange wand and tapped three times._

_They stepped back as the ground collapsed in front of them. As the stairs appeared Bella stepped forward, intending to walk ahead of him as she did in all things._

_Before he could think better of it or even process why it mattered so, he caught her arm with surprising dexterity. She stopped her descent, looking sharply over her shoulder in annoyance._

_“Why did you bring us here?” He asked with more resolve than before._

_She was silent for several beats until he gently squeezed her arm. She seemed to recognize the desperation in his eyes before. Her annoyed look faded and she sighed._

_“I don’t know, Roddy, I just did. We were falling through the sky to our watery grave, that is if a killing curse didn’t strike us midair. I had to think of a place off the top of my head.”_

_Rodolphus let go of her arm and continued to stare._

_“And you thought of this place?”_

_Now she rolled her eyes and scowled, clearly displeased with the direction the conversation was headed._

_“Fucking hell, it’s where you proposed! It doesn’t take an Unspeakable to figure it out, you idiot. I was charged with aparating the both of us because you were fucking useless as always and this place happened to be the first to pop into my head. Alright? Any more questions?”_

_Despite her outright appearance of anger he knew better. She could have left him for dead. She didn’t. She could have pushed him from the ledge and let the water take him. She could have apparated them literally anywhere in the world. And here they stood._

_“Thank you, Bella.”_

_She seemed uncomfortable by the weight of his words, quickly looking away and continuing her journey into the magical underground._

_“You can thank me with chocolate. Let’s pay a visit to our favorite shop. Last I recall the old man died and left it to his son and daughter in law.”_

_“It’ll be fun to imitate them.”_

_“It’ll be even more fun killing them.”_

_He laughed, following her footsteps closely behind._

* * *

He wasn’t surprised when it was Delphi who awoke him instead of the alarm. Luckily it was only by twenty minutes. He used the extra time to give her a bath in the tub and magically freshened her clothes. The diaper was charmed to clean itself, activated by wetness. On average the charm lasted for three days, though there were other brands that claimed to last up to a week he didn’t like the idea of her wearing anything for that long. He was quite sure an elf put a new diaper on her that morning prior to his visit to the nursery, so they should have at least a couple days before he needed to track down more.

By the time he was drying her off the hotel kitchens were open. He wrote down the order and sent the paper flying down the hall. No sooner had he sent the note than the morning paper come zipping the opposite way, wedging itself in the narrow opening between the closing door and the frame.

He breathed a sigh of relief even as his palms began to sweat. This was it. The moment of truth.

“Aka just how fucked am I?”

Del made a wet giggling sound.

“Sorry, love, don’t repeat that.”

He sat beside her on the bed and slowly opened the paper, his eyes scanning desperately for the date at the top. However it was the bold headline that first caught his attention.

_MAGICALLY ENHANCED DRUGS ON THE RISE, A PASSING FAD OR GROWING EPIDEMIC?_

Rodolphus’s brow rose. Magically enhanced drugs? He knew certain potions had a tendency to be abused but he couldn’t recall a designer drug problem in magical Britain or the surrounding areas. Maybe this occurred when he was serving his first stint in Azkaban?

He quickly shook his head at the notion. There was no way he traveled that far, most time turners could only manage a few hours. At worst he was probably only sent back…

His thoughts scattered like dried leaves in the wind. His eyes became transfixed on the date in the top corner. No. It wasn’t possible. This must have been a typo.

He threw the paper aside and stood, only half aware of his actions. He strode into the bathroom, magically drying the water residue from the tub and then levitating all the blankets and pillows from the bed into the large basin before dropping Delphi inside. She was not happy to be manhandled before breakfast and let out a shrill cry to let him know her thoughts on the matter.

“I’ll be right back, love.” He muttered as he snatched the paper back up.

He was a man possessed, nothing else could explain his idiocy in leaving a baby alone in the hotel room when any one could have been lurking outside, waiting for him to react to their prank newspaper and attacking him the moment he emerged from the room. But there was no one in the hall, no one in the lift, and no one in the main lobby when he stormed in.

He caught sight of the same man from the night before sleeping at his post behind the counter. Rodolphus lunged and grabbed him by his shirtfront, dragging him halfway across the table and waking him abruptly.

“Wha- wha- what’s happening?”

“This is happening!” Rodolphus yelled, slapping the wrinkled newspaper on the counter and then shoving the man’s face into it.

“I don’t, I don’t know what you want!”

“I want to know what the fuck this is!”

“It’s, it’s a newspaper…”

“Don’t be a smartass or I’ll make you wish you were never born! Are you in on it? Are you?!” Spittle flew from his mouth into the terrified man’s pale face.

“In o-o-on it?”

“Who do you work for?”

“My manager’s name is Chuck-”

“No you fool!” Rodolphus shook him for emphasis, eliciting a high-pitched wail. “Who gave you this paper?”

“The delivery boy! His name is Jeremy!”

“And who does this Jeremy work for?”

“The Maughold Herald!”

Rodolphus clenched his jaw and cursed under his breath.

“I can’t tell if you’re a very clever actor or really this fucking stupid.”

“I’m really this stupid! I swear! Please don’t kill me!”

“Kill you? Oh, I’m not going to kill you. I’m just going to have a little look-see.”

“A w-w-what…?”

But before the terrified man could finish his sentence Rodolphus was performing legilimency on his weak unshielded mind. It took only a few seconds of wading around his thoughts before Rodolphus realised the man was well and truly a fucking idiot, but certainly not an Order spy.

However he was able to glean one useful bit of information. The man was looking forward to his birthday party that weekend. He would be turning twenty-four. Even more alarming, he was born in 1982. He detected no deception in the mind he invaded, only genuine fear and confusion.

Releasing the stranger he shook his head in disbelief. How was this possible? The man sagged against the counter and wiped at his streaming eyes. Just as he looked around the lobby, clearly debating whether or not to make a run for it, Rodolphus drew his wand once more.

“Obliviate.”

After a few moments the man settled back calmly into his chair and blinked.

“Good morning, sir. Can I help you with something?”

“Yes, I have a question about this morning’s paper.”

“The Maughold Herald?”

“Yes. This week’s gotten away from me, is the date at the top correct?”

“Let me see…” he drew the now rumpled newspaper towards him for closer inspection.

“Yes, sir! It’s today’s copy! May 3, 2006.”


	6. Chapter Six

**May 3, 2006**   
**Ministry of Magic**

Hermione looked at her phone for the thirty-second time that morning.

No messages. No missed calls.

What the hell was taking so long? Were they still in the waiting room? Were they in an exam room that didn’t allow phone use?

Hermione personally charmed her and Ron’s cells to work normally among magic of any caliber. Ironically she couldn’t figure out a spell to ensure a clear signal in any location. It seemed muggles and wizards alike were cursed to suffer a dropped call on an elevator.

What if the healer delivered news so devastating Ron was rendered speechless, unable to provide her with an update?

Hermione shook the thought from her mind and took a deep breath, closing her eyes and pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Oh no, what’s the matter?” Harry asked as he stepped inside her office with bags of sandwiches in hand.

She opened her eyes and forced a smile, though based on Harry’s reaction she was certain it looked more like a grimace. “Oh, it’s nothing! Thanks for buying lunch.”

“Alright, let’s try that one again. What’s wrong, Mione?”

He sat in an empty chair on the opposite side of her desk and placed the bag on top of a stack of files. She tried to distract herself with clearing a space for their meal.

“Really, it’s nothing. I’m overreacting about literally nothing. Nothing is probably the best thing right now and I’m flipping out like a helicopter parent.”

Realization dawned on his face.

“Today’s the appointment.”

It wasn’t a question but Hermione nodded nonetheless.

“Yes. Her eight-month. It was supposed to be next week so we could keep them spaced evenly, but my parents are visiting and we didn’t want…” she paused for a breath and folded her hands on the desk. “We just thought it would be better to move it up. Also my appointment is next week, I debated moving that one as well but it’s probably better to just get it over with.”

Harry nodded as she spoke, unwrapping his sandwich and trying to look as nonchalant as possible. He knew the best way to defuse Hermione’s nerves was to reflect an air of calm to help put her at ease.

“She’s had nothing but a clean bill of health on the last seven visits. I’m sure everything is fine, Mione. And if it wasn’t Ron would let you know immediately, even if he had to climb onto Mungo’s roof to make the call.”

She cracked a small smile.

“I know you’re right. I just can’t help but worry.”

Harry nodded. “You’re preaching to the choir there. Gin and I are on a group chat with the sitter. We asked her for photos every hour and one of us does a video chat every other hour. We’re afraid if they don’t see us at least a dozen times during the day they’ll forget who we are by the time we get home.”

Hermione laughed and finally reached for her own sandwich though she wasn’t sure she could manage more than a few bites.

“How is Gin doing with going back to work?”

“It’s funny, when she was at the end of her leave she couldn’t wait to get back on the field, said she was bloody stir crazy in the house. Her biggest fear was being so out of it she’d never return to her former shape or speed… now she’s a few weeks in and is already at her pre-baby weight and scoring points like a demon, and her biggest complaint is missing being around the boys all day.”

Hermione popped a crisp in her mouth. “It was the same for me. I was going nuts at home, you can only organize the spice rack so many times. And Ron had already banned me from the cleaning supplies, said the house reeked like an operating room when I was on leave. But I could never miss any of my work as much as I miss seeing Rose anytime I want.”

She gazed at a patch of dust on the top of her bookshelf behind Harry’s shoulder.

“It’s a double edged sword, having a career and a family. It feels amazing to have it all, and devastating that you can’t give more of yourself, all of yourself… you’re bound to come up short somewhere, you’ll eventually let someone down.”

Harry set aside his food and leaned into the desk, setting his hand atop Hermione’s as she tore a paper napkin into shreds.

“Mione, look at me, love.”

She reluctantly met his gaze, his vibrant green eyes always an easy beacon to ground her.

“You have never, and I mean never, let anyone down. You have literally come through for everyone in your life no matter the insurmountable odds. No. Listen.” He slipped into his Auror voice when she shook her head and looked down. “You need to hear this, Mione, because Merlin knows I never said it enough when we were kids…”

This drew her attention, her gaze lifting once more.

“I am alive today because of you. Ron is alive today because of you. By that logic all of our children are alive because of you.”

She laughed and shook her head. Harry Potter, drama queen galore.

“I’m serious! I get way too much credit for saving the Wizarding world when we both know I wouldn’t have made it past first year without you.”

“Perhaps you wouldn’t have gotten as high of marks, but I think you’re exaggerating my contribution to our first year adventures. And by that logic I wouldn’t have been able to save you if you hadn’t first saved me from the troll.”

They stared at each other for a few seconds before both bursting into laughter.

“Bloody hell, we’re agreed that the kids will never know about all the shite we did, yeah?”

“Oh what good will that do, Harry? Our entire Hogwarts career is chronicled in at least a hundred different books, not to mention all the anniversary articles that the papers put out with more dramatic accounts every year.”

Harry removed his glasses to wipe away the tears of laughter. “We’re absolutely screwed, aren’t we?”

“Completely. We’ll never be able to use the ‘do-as-I-say-and-not-as-I-do’ adage for as long as we live. A shame really, I was really looking forward to that one.”

That started another round of laughter before the pair could finally meet each other’s gaze with a straight face.

“But seriously, Mione,” he retook her hand, “Rose will be fine. Even if the medical reports show a sign of… something, it isn’t your fault, and there is nothing that can be accomplished by burying yourself under guilt.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth like a fish, unable to protest when Harry read her every emotion like an open book about Quidditch.

“It’s not guilt per say…” Harry raised his eyebrow and pulled his best impression of Snape. “Okay, okay, maybe I feel a bit guilty. But I can’t help it! If something’s wrong with her then it’s a direct result of my genes. Ron isn’t riddled with dark magic. I don’t know what’s worse, my curse or my hair. Though Malfoy would say they’re one in the same.”

Harry rubbed at the bridge of his nose. “I still think it’s beyond weird you’re friends with him.”

“We’re not friends. We’re friendly. Sometimes. There’s a difference.”

“Uh-huh.”

Just then her phone screen lit up and Hermione grabbed it so fast that she ended up knocking it across the desk and into Harry’s lap.

“Answer it!” she yelled.

Harry scrambled to remove the phone from his crotch with minimal damage to both items. He pressed the button without bothering to read the caller ID.

“Hello?”

Hermione held her breath, straining to hear the voice on the other end. Ron’s voice sounded strangely feminine. Was the news so bad that he burst into hysterics, straining his voice and changing its pitch? Oh god, was Rose being admitted? Hermione had already started to reach for her jacket hanging on the back of her chair when Harry spoke again.

“Yes, Mrs. Granger, it’s great to talk to you again, as well.” He winked at Hermione, smirking as she visibly deflated in relief.

“Yes Mione told me about your visit. Gin and I would love to see you and Richard. We should arrange a big family dinner, you can meet our newest addition, Albus.”

Hermione loved that Harry was so comfortable chatting with her mother, but she really needed him to get off the phone in case Ron chose that exact moment to call. She made a ‘move it along, Potter’ sign with her hand, causing him to quietly laugh as he wrapped up his conversation with her mom.

“Great, we’ll see you next weekend then. All right. You, too. I’ll hand it over to Mione now.”

Hermione grabbed the cell phone out of his hand with a bit more force than intended, flushing when Harry only laughed harder.

“Hi, Mom. Yep. Yes, he is…” she watched Harry tuck into his lunch as she half listened to her mother go on and on about how sweet and polite Harry was, how excited she was to see Rosie again and did Hermione know the thread count of her guest sheets because Richard’s rash returned and does she know where they’re going to dinner Saturday because she’d like to plan her outfits ahead of time so she can bring the smaller suitcase and what kind of hairspray does she use because there was a sale at the store and she can bring the extra can for Hermione to try-

“Mom, that all sounds great, but do you mind if we finish our conversation this evening? I have to run to a meeting.”

Harry rolled his eyes.

“Alright, I love you, too, Mom. I’ll call you after work. Okay. Tell Daddy I said hi. Bye.”

She sighed as she put her phone down, “Don’t start with me, Potter.”

“I didn’t say anything.”

“You don’t have to, your eyes speak volumes.”

“Sorry, I meant to put them on mute before stopping by.”

“Shut up.”

Just then an interoffice memo came flying into her office and right into the side of Harry’s head.

“Christ! These things are getting violent!”

“It’s only the high priority ones that try to get your attention. Though I must admit, that’s the first one I’ve seen dive bomb someone’s skull.”

“Lovely.”

“Pass it here, would you, Harry?”

She unfolded the now crumpled paper as Harry rubbed his scalp, inspecting his fingers for blood.

“Well, seems I wasn’t lying to dear old mum. Shacklebolt requested an immediate meeting.”

“Huh. Wonder what he- Ah! Fuck!” Another flying memo crashed into the side of his head. “Why are they attacking me? Shouldn’t they be getting caught in your nest of-”

“Watch it, Potter.” She snatched the second memo from his hands. “I know you’re in pain but if you finish that sentence I’m liable to injure you in ways that paper can’t.”

Harry scowled as he shielded his head with his hands, looking around for more incoming missiles.

“Hmm. This one actually was for you, Harry. Shacklebolt wants to see you, too.”

“Let’s get going then.”

“Wait. What do you think this is about?”

Harry tossed the remains of his lunch in the garbage and frowned at her untouched sandwich. Part of the reason Harry made the effort to coordinate their lunch break was to ensure she ate. Hermione had a tendency to get so wrapped up in her work she skipped meals. Paired with her worry over Rose’s doctor appointment he knew she’d probably be fasting into tomorrow.

“I dunno. Maybe an overlap in our departments? Heard anything from your contact in the werewolf community?” Harry asked as he held the door open for Hermione.

“No, not lately.” She set her personal locks before setting off with him down the hall.

As Assistant Head of the Department for the Regulation and Control of Magical Creatures she held quite a bit of sensitive information in her office, including the identity and contact information of quite a few werewolves.

Hermione fought tooth and nail to put an end to the werewolf public registry Umbridge created. But as Hermione learned in the first few years following the demise of the Dark Lord, destroying the source of an infection did not immediately remedy the symptoms.

There was still quite a bit of bigotry and allegiance to the old ways among the powers that be in the Ministry. Even after the most well known corrupt officials were dismissed from office new corruption emerged and spread to fill the political vacuum.

The Golden Trio were labeled saviors and their friends deemed heroes, but even after reparations were made the majority of wealth remained within the oldest wizarding families, primarily pure blood and brimming with traditional ideals. While a few ancient families crumbled entirely and had their wealth seized by the ministry for lack of a legal heir, such as the Lestranges, others simply withdrew from the public eye and continued to pull levers behind the scenes with their wealth and connections.

Which meant Hermione could only secure a majority vote from the newly reformed Wizengamot by offering the lesser of two evils as an alternative; at least that’s how Malfoy phrased it. At the time she was disgusted by the trade-off, ashamed to even put the bill forth for consideration. She still possessed her Hogwarts mindset, her Gryffindor bravado, and was of an all-or-nothing disposition.

Malfoy assured her if she went into politics (or rather, relied on the infallible egos of politicians) a refusal to compromise would see her shut out before she made any sort of impact on the causes near and dear to her heart. He taught her to play the game, to plant ideas in other’s heads in such a way that they thought it was their own brilliant proposal they sung the praises of.

But perhaps most importantly, he taught her to pick and choose her battles without sacrificing her ideals.

Which led to the dissolution of the public werewolf registry in exchange for a private list disguised as a healthcare bill. Hermione grated her teeth through the entire writing process and clenched her fists beneath the table while the board discussed its merits. But she forced herself to admit the benefits of having such a bill in place of the original registry. It wasn’t ideal but it was one step closer to the way things should be. At least werewolves could maintain a semblance of privacy and autonomy over their lives, and in turn it paved the way for a better relationship between the packs and Ministry.

Despite the endless tap dances before the Wizengamot and various other boards, Hermione loved her job. Since forming S.P.E.W. in her youth she knew there was a dire need for organized interest groups for the magical minority. Then Lupin had inspired her passion for werewolves’ rights specifically.

Over the last six years in the Magical Creatures department Hermione rotated through all three major divisions, Beast, Being and Spirit (she even served as an expert witness for the Pest Advisory Board, something Malfoy never let her live down) and devoted her time and energy to a number of causes, designing and implementing several laws to support those interests.

In fact, Harry proudly informed her that her fellow Ministry employees had coined a term for when Hermione set her sights on changing an archaic law or convincing a chairman or entire board of her views.

They called it Granger Danger.

She scowled when she first heard it, deeply offended at the flippant dismissal of her hard work and conviction. But when Harry and Ron started using the term for everything from her reminding them to wear seatbelts in the flying car to asking the waitress to please bring her a new salad with the dressing _on the side_ this time she merely began rolling her eyes, considering it a term of endearment instead of a running joke at her expense.

Despite the passion for her work she couldn’t help but look beyond her immediate happiness and into the long-term future. Having rotated through the various positions within the Department it was time for her to choose a Division to focus her career. She was also in the second highest-ranking position with only one level to go, a seat currently held by her current boss and mentor Lillian Flint.

Lillian was twenty-five years Hermione’s senior. It was a large enough age gap to lend their relationship a special familial bond that developed during the years when Hermione’s parents were undergoing their Obliviation reversal procedures, a process that took nearly three years.

Hermione still felt crushing guilt for her decision to alter her parents’ memories, especially since they both experienced residual symptoms to this day. Her father suffered sudden bouts of amnesia that the mind healer’s couldn’t pinpoint the cause of. It prevented him from being able to drive or leave the house alone. He swore it didn’t bother him but Hermione suspected the lack of control over his faculties affected him far more than he let on.

Hermione was grateful for Lillian’s support and understanding while she was under the brilliant woman’s tutelage. Between their candid conversations about her parents’ memory restoration and her fear for their mental health as they reached their senior years, to discussions surrounding Hermione’s fertility treatments, miscarriage, and subsequent rollercoaster pregnancy, Lillian was a true friend and reliable sounding board during some of the most critical moments in Hermione’s life.

Which made it impossible to tell Lillian that she wanted to change Departments.

The guilt of her desire weighed heavily on her mind, culminating into a physical sickness that left her gagging when she attempted to broach the conversation even in her mind. She felt as though leaving the Department was a direct betrayal against Lillian. After everything her boss had put up with, all the sob stories she had listened to and comforted her through, all the personal life bullshit Hermione dragged into the office like a suitcase affixed with an Undetectable Extension Charm, the boundless support and easy friendship Lillian offered from day one. And Hermione planned to repay her by leaving. She couldn’t imagine how to begin such a conversation.

But the predicament was a simple one. The age difference that made Lillian an ideal mentor and subsequent motherly figure didn’t mean her boss was an old woman. In truth Lillian was known for her prowess and adventurous nature both in and out of the office. There was no doubt she’d led an exuberant life but certainly not a full one.

Having worked hard for her merits she earned her seat as Head eight years before Hermione joined the Ministry. There was truly no one better suited to lead the Department. And Lillian had no plans for an early retirement, meaning Hermione had several decades to remain in the same position before moving up.

If there was one thing Hermione abhorred it was remaining stagnant when greater things were within reach. But in truth, even if Lillian decided to cash out and move to the Caribbean tomorrow, Hermione didn’t aspire to lead the Creatures Department.

She was ready for a change. After spending the last six years focused on drafting legislation, rallying for votes and researching facts and statistics until her eyes burned, she was ready for a position with more muscle behind it. Specifically, she wanted to work in Department of Magical Law Enforcement.

She knew many people idealized this particular Department above all others. Their annual number of employment applications was more than three times that of any other Department within the Ministry. She knew the Auror Office fielded the majority of the interest, especially over the last seven years. Ever since Harry joined the Auror Program at the tender age of eighteen they had experienced a staggering amount of new recruits each year. The Auror department had nearly tripled in size and even opened an Auror Reserve Office outside the Ministry to accommodate the massive growth.

But Hermione had been disillusioned about the Auror profession while still a student at Hogwarts. And watching her best friend and fiancé undergo the Training Program and finally enter the field shattered any lingering fantasies she may have harbored. She knew first hand how mentally and physically demanding the profession was, the extremely long hours and ever changing shifts, the very real and terrifying mortal danger they faced every moment of every day, even when off duty.

She would never wish such a life for anyone she loved. So of course as fate would have it the two people she loved most signed up immediately following the end of the war.

No, Hermione didn’t harbor the secret desire to become a renowned Auror. She doubted anyone could crawl out from beneath Harry’s shadow as it was… so far all field reports claimed no wizard had taken so naturally to fighting dark magic in decades, maybe even centuries. Harry was a fierce duelist who gave Aurors twice his age a run for their money. He had even started to practice dueling with two wands at once, a notion that made Hermione’s head spin.

She knew that Harry pushed himself to his mental, physical and magical limits to prove he was more than just a famous name. His contempt for his notoriety had lessened since their youth. He’d finally learned to accept he’d never be just another face in the crowd.

But in surrendering to his inescapable fame he also decided to earn the press coverage that seemed to follow his every move. He threw himself into the middle of the most dangerous assignments making it his personal mission to ensure he received the brunt of the risk. He had already saved several agents’ lives on the job, her husband included.

And what made it all the more fantastic was how Harry brushed it all off like any other day job. Diving in front of a junior Auror and taking a cursed silver blade through the lung was just another Tuesday night. Pulling said blade out of his chest and launching it at the enemy, plunging it through their thigh just a centimeter away from the femoral artery and successfully preventing apparition was just another Tuesday night with karaoke.

The evenings Hermione spent wide awake in the nursery fussing over Rose were almost a pleasant distraction from the countless nights she spent worrying whether her husband and best friend would make it home alive.

Hermione admired the boys’ bravery. She had enough of near death experiences in school. However there was much more to the DMLE than the explosive danger and glamour of the Auror Office.

The biggest appeal to Hermione was the Department’s ability to execute legislation without having to gain another department’s approval and it’s direct access to the Wizengamot and other powerful seats. She knew she could do the most good by getting the most done with the authority of the DMLE at her back.

But a Department transfer was not as simple a process as she first imagined. Beyond the crap ton of paperwork and breaking the news to Lillian she needed stunning referrals from someone in her current Department as well as peers and managers from cross-functional teams. It had taken her weeks to just decide who to ask for the recommendations, never mind how long it took to gather them all.

When she started the process she was resolved to not ask Harry for a referral. It seemed too obvious and Hermione did not take the easy way out of anything. But then Harry stopped by her office for lunch one afternoon and none too subtly asked who died. Hermione wasn’t as skilled at masking her nervous tension as she thought.

His piercing stare bled the whole story from her in no time (she later complemented his interrogation skills, sending him into a full belly laugh as he told her she hadn’t begun to see his interrogating skills) and after hearing her pour her heart out he casually popped a crisp in his mouth and informed her he’d have his referral written by the end of the weak. Every time she tried to protest he threw a crisp at her head, purposefully aiming for her hair. She relented after the third successful shot.

“Do you think this could be about my… you know….?”

Harry tried unsuccessfully to hide his smirk. She imagined her piss poor attempt at stealth was a source of endless amusement to his Auror sensibilities.

“Oh piss off! Do you think it’s about my transfer?” she whispered the last word; despite the fact the hallway was otherwise empty.

Harry scratched absently at his beard.

“Hm. Could be.”

His nonchalance only served to irritate her further.

“Harry! You know that I haven’t told Lillian yet. If Shacklebolt’s involved the news has probably already gotten round to her.”

“And why is it such a big deal telling her?”

She groaned and scuffed her feet against the ground like a child. “I already told you, Harry, I feel terrible requesting a transfer after everything she’s done for me.”

“What about everything you’ve done for her? All the laws you’ve pushed through the Wizengamot? I think you’ve more than earned your spot in any Department you want, Mione.”

She smiled, “You’re just saying that because you love me.”

“Can’t argue that. But it’s also true. Ask anyone. Everyone knows you’re brilliant; you could have gotten those referrals from literally anyone. And for what it’s worth, I think you’re underestimating Lillian. I’m sure she’ll be sad to lose you, but if she really cares about you she’ll be happy to see you moving forward in your career.”

Hermione opened and closed her mouth a few times as she processed his words, finally settling on another reluctant smile. “Harry, you’re really good at consoling emotional women.”

That really got him laughing.

“That’s not what the witch who threw a killing curse at my head the other night thought.”

“Well Gin has a sorter fuse than most, give her time and she’ll cool down.”

He laughed harder at her jab. But Hermione knew he was referring to the vagrant who attacked him at the drug den the Aurors infiltrated earlier that week. Hermione had stopped by the DMLE looking for Ron and caught Harry filling out paperwork with blood dripping down his face and neck. Needless to say, she’d had a bit of a fit.

They exited the lift and made their way to the waiting room outside of Shacklebolt’s office. The closer they got the tighter Hermione’s stomach knotted. Between waiting for updates on Rose and for Lillian to find out her secret before she had a chance to tell her she felt like she might implode at any moment.

The secretary greeted them both and waved them on ahead, but Harry gripped Hermione by the shoulders before they went in.

“Mione, breathe.”

She briefly closed her eyes and sharply inhaled, holding the air in her lungs until they burned and letting it out in a rush. When she looked up she wasn’t pleased to see how supremely amused her best friend appeared.

“So happy you can afford to laugh at my expense.”

“I take no joy in it.”

“Uh-huh.”

He winked before releasing her and opening the door, allowing her to enter first. She walked in expecting to see the familiar and friendly visage of the Minister sitting behind his large vinewood desk, so she was taken aback when she was instead met by a pair of cool grey eyes peering down at her from a pale and angular face.

“Granger. What an unpleasant surprise.”


	7. Chapter Seven

**May 3, 2006**   
**Ministry of Magic**

“Draco! Hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you here.”

“Really. How interesting.”

She rolled her eyes, stepping fully inside to make room for Harry.

Draco’s bored drawl had become a familiar sound over the last few years. He wasn’t an employee of the Ministry but his political connections had been very beneficial to her as she pushed for various legislation.

In exchange she put him in contact with wealthy muggle organizations as he launched his investment firm off the ground. It was a mutually beneficial business arrangement that somehow evolved into a reluctant friendship, though neither had ever referred to one another as such.

“Malfoy, what a surprise,” Harry said amicably as he entered the Minister’s office and closed the door behind him.

“Potter. Easily impressed as ever, I see.”

The muscle in Harry’s jaw ticked and she could tell he was about to fire back. Honestly, had these two not grown out of their childish bickering yet? Hermione plastered on a smile that felt grotesquely out of place layered over her rattled nerves.

“Harry and I received the same memo to visit Shacklebolt immediately, we were expecting him to be here.”

“He had to step out.”

“You’re a part of this meeting then?” Harry asked in what Hermione thought of as his Auror voice.

Draco casually inspected his hand as though he had naught a concern in the world. “I’m the reason this meeting was called.”

Hermione felt herself taken aback for the second time in as many minutes. So this wasn’t about her transfer… what a relief. She felt some of the tension drain out of her muscles knowing she’d have the opportunity to approach Lillian on her own terms.

Before she could ask Draco any follow up question the office door opened and Shacklebolt came striding through in a vibrant display of colorful silks and patterns. He exuded as much power and charisma as the first time Hermione beheld him so many years ago. Here stood a natural born leader with confidence brimming from every pore. Hermione admired him more every time she was in his presence.

“Hermione, Harry! Thank you for stopping by. How are the families?”

The innocent question served to suck the breath from Hermione’s body. She tamped down the urge to check her phone again. Instead she threaded her fingers together in front of her until the knuckles turned white. From the corner of her eye she noticed Draco look in her direction, the moment his eyes locked onto her she felt gooseflesh rake across her arms.

She vaguely heard Harry give an update on Ginny and the boys. When Shacklebolt turned his focus to her she plastered on another smile and redirected the conversation.

“I hope nothing is seriously wrong, Kingsley. Harry and I were quite surprised when you requested both our presences.”

Shacklebolt tucked his hands in his pockets and casually made his way behind his desk.

“Not at all, Hermione. Something interesting has come up and we’d like to make sure nothing is out of order. And given the nature of the situation, we thought it best to keep the number of people involved as small as possible.”

Ever the politician, Hermione admired his ability to say so much while saying so little. However there was one part of his explanation that stood out above the rest.

“ _We_?”

“Yes, Granger. _We_.”

She turned her attention to the blonde towering above her. She hadn’t heard his approach.

“Mr. Malfoy owled me yesterday with a bit of news that didn’t seem that alarming at the time. However this morning he brought me another bit of news that may mean we have a bit of a problem on our hands.”

Hermione was still looking at Draco, trying to gauge his expression but it was frustratingly blank.

“I take it you requested Mione and me to bring us in on this matter? We’re going to need details, Kingsley, the facts.”

Shacklebolt chuckled and nodded his head. “Ah yes, Auror Potter is a formidable sight indeed.”

Harry rolled his eyes and ran his hand over the top of his hair, an unconscious habit he’d yet to lose even though it was no longer necessary. Years ago during the Auror Training Program he’d given up on trying to tame his unwieldy locks and decided to grow it all out. Now his hair hung just past his shoulders, though he always wore it in a knot at work. Paired with the short goatee he never looked more like this godfather.

“I’m only kidding, Harry. In fact, your success in the Auror office is why I chose you to lead this investigation.”

“Investigation? Then I assume there’s a case file.”

“Not quite.”

“Not quite? Then that’s a no.”

Kingsley sighed and turned his focus on Hermione instead.

“I also decided to tap both of you because I know I can trust you. I consider you both dear friends, who just happen to be excellent at your jobs.”

Hermione knew that Kingsley was appealing to her because she was always the more level headed one, but a small voice whispered from the recesses of her mind that Kingsley thought she was more easily manipulated my an emotional plea because she was a woman.

She quickly dismissed the notion. She and Kingsley fought side by side in many battles. He knew she was a powerful witch and respected and trusted her above all others. If anything she should be flattered, not offended.

Working with the male dominated, conservative slanted Wizengamot over the last six years had left her picking apart her interactions until it drove her mad. She made a conscious effort not to read so deeply into things. But reading things was a major hallmark of what made her Hermione Jean Granger-Weasley. Skirting her true nature was a fine line to walk.

“We consider you a true friend, Kingsley. Of course we are happy to help you in any way we can.”

She saw Harry’s head snap sharply towards her and she met his gaze head on.

He raised his brow; _Are we now? I told you the other day my caseload was overflowing, Mione._

She pursed her lips and straightened; _Harry James Potter, this is our longtime friend and colleague, he is asking for our help._

He sighed and his expression softened a fraction; _It isn’t a matter of loyalty. You know I would do anything for a friend. It’s a matter of resources._

She tilted her head imploringly; _We haven’t even heard him out. For all we know this will be a shut and close case._

Harry sighed deeply and looked forward again; _Fine. We’ll hear him out._

Hermione smiled brightly; _I love you, too, Harry._

“Are you two quite done talking? Your bickering is giving me a headache.”

She chose to ignore the sardonic blonde and instead faced Kingsley.

“Harry and I are happy to help, assuming we are able to assist without pulling others in.”

He smiled. “I have complete faith in your abilities. As I said, we aren’t even sure there is anything to worry about. Should your investigation reveal anything major we will of course bring in the proper parties.”

Hermione could still feel the tension in Harry’s body and sympathized. Despite being rebel rule breakers in their youth both friends had come to respect their professional peers and weren’t keen on going behind their backs for a private investigation, no matter that it was with the blessing of the Minister of Magic.

“Why don’t you just start from the beginning, Kingsley.”

Kingsley nodded but his eyes drifted to the tall figure beside her, still as a sentinel.

“Perhaps it is better if Mr. Malfoy explains, as he is at the center of both occurrences.”

Draco didn’t look pleased with Kingsley's statement and she wondered if he felt the Minister was implicating him. She knew Draco was still the subject of a lot of animosity within the magical world. She suspected that was why he turned his focus to muggle business, though he still interacted quite a bit with the wizarding economy.

He had become quite the philanthropist and backed many community projects throughout wizarding Britain but there were still those who felt hostility regarding his role in the war. It reminded her of how certain individuals looked down on her for her blood status, her sex or both even after so much progress had been made.

She wondered if they’re shared plight to escape the shadow society cast over them was what drew them together to form the basis of their non-friendship.

“Last night I received an alert from the wards set up around the Manor,” Draco’s focus was on Hermione, as though the other two men weren’t in the room. “They are protected by standard issue blood wards, created under Ministry approval and supervision.”

His last sentence was laced with scorn and she knew she wasn’t the only one to pick up on. But she also knew no one in this room was the type to bring up Draco’s past, and after a moment it seemed Draco realized it, too.

“The wards only allow someone from my family to pass through. Even then a notification of all activity is sent to me.”

“Is that Ministry mandated?” Harry asked, settling against Kingsley desk and crossing his arms.

“I didn’t realize staying apprised of the visitors to my own home was illegal.”

Hermione instinctually came to Harry’s defense, “I think what Harry is asking is why you have such an alert on the Manor. Does the Ministry require a report of guests?”

Draco dragged his mercurial gaze back to her and she watched his expression soften just a hair.

“The Ministry requires no such report. After I boarded up the Manor I decided to set the alert in case of vandals. It wouldn’t be first time someone tried to breach the defenses to gain entry. The report shows all ward activity, even unsuccessful attempts.”

Hermione nodded, she remembered when Draco told her he was shutting up his family home. He claimed it was due to his pending nuptials to Astoria, he preferred starting a family in a smaller more manageable residence. But Hermione had already learned through the grapevine he had vacated the Manor a year prior, opting for a flat in Muggle London. She never asked where Narcissa was living. She suspected he wouldn’t tell her if she did.

“And who constitutes a member of your family?” Harry asked.

“I would think you were intimately familiar with my family tree, Potter.”

“More than I’d like to be. But more specifically, are the wards specific to the Malfoy line, or could a distant relation make it through?”

Draco paused to consider this. “When I created the wards I did so using my mother’s blood. We thought it was safer that way considering the ward’s previous settings. We didn’t want to invite any possible exceptions if the old wards weren’t completely eradicated.”

Harry and Kingsley nodded in understanding but Hermione must have look as confused as she felt because Draco elaborated.

“For years prior the Manor was warded to allow entrance to anyone bearing a Dark Mark. I feared if I reset the wards with my blood it would also trip the Dark Mark allowance. We thought using my mother as the anchor would be safer.”

Hermione knew what it cost Draco to bring up the Dark Mark or anything regarding his past. She tried to keep the sympathy off her face knowing he wouldn’t appreciate it.

“That was smart,” she settled for saying instead.

“Yes, well every now and then I am known to have a competent thought.”

“Getting back to the wards,” Harry cut in, “I assume the reason you owled Kingsley was because whoever made it through your wards wasn’t your mother? And you have no idea who else could gain access?”

Draco looked at his schoolboy nemesis and his jaw ticked, Hermione assumed he wasn’t a fan of Harry bringing up Narcissa even if she was a vital piece of the puzzle.

“That’s correct. At first I thought it was another vandal pounding at the wards, but this report showed someone exiting the property at 11:50pm. The barrier didn’t arm, just logged the activity as though the person was keyed to the blood wards. If I knew who it could have been I would have handled the matter myself. But given the implication I thought it best to bring it to Ministry attention.”

The wheels in Hermione’s mind were rapidly turning as a dozen thoughts and questions started to layer into a heap. She heard Kingsley sink into his leather chair and Harry start to slowly pace back and forth across the carpet.

“You said there was sign of someone leaving the property, what about their arrival?” he asked.

“There was no record of their arrival.”

“Ward defect? System error?”

“I apparated to the Manor approximately an hour later and inspected them myself. I detected no tampering.”

“And you have no problem if I take a look at them?”

“Of course not.”

“Wait,” Hermione injected, remembering something important Shacklebolt mentioned earlier. “Kingsley said that you owled him last night and then came by this morning with additional news.”

Draco took a deep breath and gestured to the upholstered chairs on the opposite side of the vinewood desk.

“That will be a slightly longer explanation, perhaps we should have a seat.”

Hermione was too riled up to sit. Her morning had been filled with worry for her baby, her afternoon with panic about her career, and now she was being pulled into a covert assignment involving Malfoy. How the hell was she supposed to sit?

In true gentlemanly fashion Draco pulled a chair out and gestured for her to take a seat. Then, as if detecting her reluctance, he leaned in just a fraction and whispered low enough for only her to hear.

“It’s alright, Granger. I promise this will be the least stressful part of your day.”

She stared at him quizzically, his statement distracting her enough to take the offered chair between him and Harry. Before she could ponder his meaning any further he unbuttoned his expensive looking suit jacket, muggle she noted, meaning he probably came straight from a business meeting or was headed to one directly after, and took his seat.

“I received another interesting bit of news early this morning. From Gringotts.”

This was intriguing. Hermione crossed her legs and turned her body in to face him.

“I’m not sure if either of you are aware, but following the war my mother became the official owner of the Black family vault. Prior to that it was controlled by…”

Hermione knew his reluctance was for her benefit, but she refused to give the name any power by being afraid to speak it.

“Bellatrix.”

He blinked at the casual way with which she spoke the name and then seemed pleased.

“Yes, dear Aunt Bella. May Satan rest her soul.”

Hermione tried her best not to smile.

“So when Bellatrix died it passed to your mother,” Harry added as he finally took the remaining chair.

He also looked hesitant to sit but she knew it wasn’t because he was riddled with the same nervous energy. Harry just hated sitting still and thought better when moving around. However she knew he’d never risk offending the others by continuing to pace in circles.

“Yes. The family vault was transferred eight years ago. I went with her to sign the paperwork and was granted access to the funds within. It was surprisingly well stocked, close to a third of wealth of the Malfoy vault.” He spoke without a hint of the adolescent smugness she remembered so well. He might as well have been discussing his family’s rare spoon collection.

“The Blacks have always been known as a wealthy family, why did the content of the vault surprise you?”

“Because the Blacks were avid supporters of Voldemort.” This was the first crack in his armor she detected. It was small but she caught the subtle tensing in his shoulders, the flexing of his fingers on the armrests, the small throb in the vein at his temple.

Hermione felt the urge to jump in just as she had done for Harry earlier. “I agree. I would have thought they’d bleed themselves dry to support his campaign. Especially if Bellatrix had sole control of the funds during the second war. I can’t believe there was anything left.”

“My thoughts exactly. Anyway, as I said, there was plenty in the Malfoy vault to care for my mother and I, even after we paid post war reparations. We had no desire to touch a single Knut of the Black fortune. We allowed it to sit and gain interest until we could come to a decision on what to do with it. Then the years went on and it went out of sight, out of mind. The only interaction we had with the vault, after the initial inventory list, was a monthly interest report. After a few years I stopped even reading that. I just filed them away unopened.”

Draco paused and averted his gaze to the floor, taking a deep breath and appearing to steel himself before continuing. Upon his next words she understood. Draco was always sensitive when it came to Narcissa.

“Two years ago my mother’s declining health made it prudent for me to become her legal power of attorney. This, among several other things, meant taking over as owner of the Black vault instead of just being a permitted user. This changed very little in regards to the vault’s maintenance. The monthly reports continued to arrive; they simply addressed me instead of my mother. We largely continued to ignore it. Until this morning.”

Hermione didn’t realize she had moved to the edge of her seat and was leaning in to Draco as he spoke. She flushed and scooted back in her chair, wondering if Harry noticed but a glance at her best friend told her he was in full-Auror mode and was solely focused on the facts Draco provided.

“What happened?”

“I received another notice from Gringotts. But this one was different. The interest reports come at the end of the month. I received April’s less than a week ago. But I had an owl pecking at my window at 8am this morning. Upon reading the letter, combined with last night's incident with the Manor wards, I thought it best to visit the Minister in person.”

Here Kingsley took his cue and leaned into his high back chair, pulling a piece of parchment from a hidden recess within the desk and sliding it across the table to Harry, who seemed to scan the long document rather than reading it detail. Within seconds he was handing it over, his focus back on Draco.

“You no longer have access to the account.”

“That’s correct.” Draco stopped and glanced at Hermione, as if affording her time to read the paper and catch up. She didn’t want to keep them waiting too long and decided to make a copy and read it in full later, right now opting to breeze through only the first paragraph.

“It says you are no longer the legal primary of the Black Vault as of today. All prior transfers of ownership are null and void.”

She glanced up when her words were met with silence. Draco sat calmly staring at the document still gripped in her hands. Harry stared blankly ahead, clearly lost to his own thoughts. Kingsley was staring right at her. She met his gaze and desperately tried to put the pieces together.

“Okay…” she began, wriggling forward in her seat and sliding the document to the middle so everyone could see it. “So we have two possibly unrelated events that occurred within approximately an eight hour period…”

“Really, Granger? I thought the Brightest Witch of Our Age would be a bit quicker on the uptake.”

“Watch it, Malfoy,” Harry snapped out of his thoughts, leaning menacingly towards the blonde, though it only put him closer to Hermione. “We won’t be as motivated to help you if you keep being a sarcastic ass.”

Draco’s eyes narrowed to slits. “If she’s going to act purposefully dense then I’ll call her out on it. She’s smarter than this.”

Hermione opened her mouth to retort defensively when the last of his words settled in her mind. She hesitated, detecting a backhanded compliment in there somewhere but not sure if Draco intended to make it. She settled on a deep breath and opted to ignore his last few statements. She’d learned years ago it was better to ignore him than react.

“Why don’t you tell us what your theory is, Draco? That might make this investigation go by faster.”

He broke from his stare-down with his schoolboy nemesis and instead focused that animosity on her. It was decidedly uncomfortable. She swallowed and did her best not to squirm.

“The Manor blood wards were accessed without being tripped. The Black family vault no longer recognizes my mother or I as the rightful owners. What do you think my theory is?”

She had seen the pieces laying in her mind’s eye, begging to be linked together in their obvious places but she refused to accept such a notion.

“We don’t know if the wards were really accessed. They show no sign of someone entering, that hints at some sort of glitch to me. And have you talked to the bank yet? For all we know these is some sort of policy change taking effect.”

At his sardonic expression she pushed forward. “All I’m saying is until we delve deeper into these occurrences there’s no reason to think they’re linked. And even if they are linked, it could be some elaborate prank. Or robbery attempt. We need more information to know for sure.”

Draco didn’t look pleased but remained blessedly silent.

She turned to Harry for his support and saw he was once again gazing off into space, slumped to the side and slowly stroking his hand over the bottom of his beard.

“Harry!”

He gaze jumped to her though he still looked slightly lost in thought. Then he blinked and straightened, resting his hands on the armrests.

“Mione’s right.”

“As always…” she mumbled under her breath, satisfied, though Shacklebolt’s grin told her she might have been louder than intended.

“We need to investigate both incidents further,” Harry continued, “We’ll deal with the information as it comes. Until then, I’m also reluctant to jump to any conclusions.”

Draco shook his head and looked away.

“That is exactly why I called you both in,” the Minister said, “We want to avoid any information spreading to prevent unwarranted assumptions. Until we know the scope of what we’re dealing with there’s no need to cause panic or bad press. For the Ministry or the Malfoy family.”

Draco’s jaw tensed but he didn’t react further.

“What do you think?” Kingsley steepled his fingers before him, “Will you be able to assist?”

Harry sighed and looked to Hermione, their gazes locking for a few moments before he spoke.

“I’ll carve out some time to look into it. But my official work will take precedence, unless you’d like to explain to the Head why my current cases aren’t getting enough attention.”

Shacklebolt nodded. “Should the importance of this investigation warrant a higher priority I will speak to Goldstein myself. Until then working on this during your free time should be fine.”

Harry’s brow raised and Hermione suspected it was at the phrase ‘free-time’. She knew damn well Harry already worked ungodly hours to keep up with his assigned caseload and what small sliver of time wasn’t focused on working was devoted to his family.

When Kingsley shifted his eyes to her she straightened in her chair.

“I should be able to carve out time to work on this. I’m in the middle of drafting legislation for the newly established centaur territory and have a couple presentations to finish up before the Wizengamot reconvenes next week, but I’ll make it work.”

Kingsley nodded along as she spoke and then slowly smiled. She tilted her head, replaying her words to figure out what was so funny.

“Actually, Hermione, I thought this would be a good first assignment for your new position with the DMLE.”

She blinked.

_Oh shite._


	8. Chapter Eight

**May 3, 2006**  
**Ministry of Magic**

Hermione replayed Shacklebolt's words in her mind until they lost all meaning and were just sounds.

Did he...?

"I'm sorry, sir, what was that?"

"You applied for a transfer six weeks ago, yes?"

"Um, I, I mean, yes, but-"

"And you provided six excellent referrals even though only four were required, and honestly being who you are none were needed."

"Sir, I-"

"You've had a stunning career in the Creatures Department, created a multitude of legislation, and obviously exemplify everything the DMLE represents. I see no reason to postpone a move that can only benefit both parties. Spend the rest of the week migrating what projects you can and report to the second level on Monday. We'll set you up in an office outside the Auror Office so you have access to the investigation tools you'll need."

Hermione wasn't sure how much time passed while she sat looking dumbfounded. She wasn't even sure if her mouth was closed. Everything Kingsley just said was her dream come true. It was everything she'd been wanting since she returned from maternity leave and started thinking about her long-term future. But…

"Lillian," she whispered, then quickly cleared her throat and tried again. "My boss. I haven't had the chance to discuss the transfer with her yet." She felt pathetic for the lie; she certainly had ample opportunities to bring the topic up. She was just too much of a coward to follow through. Some Gryffindor.

"That's interesting," Kingsley said as he raised a dark brow and smirked. "Because she stopped by my office to personally approve the transfer two weeks ago. She also dropped off her handwritten recommendation for why you'd make an excellent addition to the DMLE."

Hermione tried to swallow but her mouth was filled with cotton balls. Had she heard him correctly? It couldn't be. She'd been so careful! But then again she'd had to ask quite a few people for referrals. And though they'd all promised their secrecy it only took one slip for the rumor mill to explode, especially considering Hermione was a long time favorite topic of gossip.

Harry put his hand on her arm, pulling her through her haze of panic.

"Of course she did. Mione is a rock star and every Department wants her. We're lucky to have her."

She forced a small smile, genuinely appreciating his words but still feeling sick to her stomach with guilt. She'd been so worried about breaking the news to her boss and low and behold she'd already known for two weeks. At least two weeks. Perhaps she'd known for months and decided to take matters into her own hands if Hermione wouldn't get around to telling her.

Pushing past the whirl of emotions Hermione redirected her focus to the Minister. Her new boss, come Monday.

"I am honored to join the DMLE. I'll spend this week getting everything in order so I can start on Monday."

Kingsley smiled broadly; clearly pleased he now had yet another close ally under his paw. He was a politician after all. Strategy came as naturally as breathing.

"Well now that that's been taken care of, I'll leave it to Harry to suss out the details of how you'll proceed. Since he'll have far less time to devote to the investigation I suspect he'll want to delegate most of the tasks to you, Hermione. However whatever arrangement works for you both I am fine with. I only ask that you bring no one else in on the investigation and provide me with weekly updates."

Hermione took a deep breath. Her first investigation. As a member of the DMLE. It didn't even matter it was technically off the books and centered around Malfoy, she was finally moving past the crushing guilt and basking in the excitement and victory that was the result of all her planning and hard work.

"Even though you don't officially switch until Monday I'd like to get started as soon as we can," Harry said to her. "Both instances may be time sensitive, especially the bank. I can go by and check out the wards at the Manor later today. Preferable at a time you'll be available Malfoy, so I can look at them from both sides of the barrier."

"I'll have to move around my evening appointments but send an owl with the desired time and I'll make it work."

"Great. Mione, I'll leave Gringotts to you. The goblins will respond better to you since you worked with Griphook last summer."

Hermione nodded, suddenly realizing that Auror Potter wasn't just an abstract reflection of her best friend, he was her new supervisor.

The thought was so absurd she wanted to laugh but instead found herself making a mental note to clear her morning schedule tomorrow, which meant confronting Lillian today. That quickly smothered any lingering humor she felt.

"Alright, sounds like a plan. Now if you'll all excuse me, I have a debriefing to run to."

Harry stood and leaned over the desk to shake the Minister's hand. When he straightened he looked past Hermione and nodded, "Malfoy. I'll send an owl to schedule a time for the wards. I'll see you then."

Draco inclined his head in acknowledgment. Then she felt Harry close in on her personal space, his large hand gently squeezing her upper arm as he leaned down to whisper in her ear.

"Congratulations, Mione. I couldn't be prouder, though I never doubted you could do it. And don't worry about Lillian, she wouldn't have visited Kingsley if she didn't want this for you, too." He shot her a wink as he pulled up to his full height.

She smiled at him, a real, non-forced I'm-trying-to-hide-my-panic-attack smile, and bid him goodbye as he slipped out the door.

"Granger." She turned to face Draco as he stood from his chair. "I'm running late for a meeting myself, I'll walk you out."

Her excitement quickly faded. She had walked the hallways of the Ministry beside Draco countless times, whether in silence or heated debate on whatever topic struck their fancy, but for some reason she felt her defenses go up by his offer on this particular occasion.

Still, she couldn't think of any reason to decline. So she stood, smoothing out the bottom of her blouse, and thanked Kingsley again before meeting Draco at the door as he held it open.

Once they were in the hallway she chanced a look at his face but he was staring ahead, already walking away. She suddenly felt silly for thinking this was anything but a casual walk to the lifts.

"Congratulations are in order, I suppose." His voice was flat and neutral, like he was telling her the time rather than truly complimenting her success.

"Thank you, Malfoy," she tried to sound as unaffected as him, but thinking about her new job made her think about Lillian and it all came crashing back.

"When Kingsley first announced the transfer I thought you might drop dead. Started trying to remember heart revival spells. Then I figured the Savior of Wizarding Kind would save the day should anything happen."

She rolled her eyes. "Good to know I can count on you when I'm dying on the floor."

"In my defense, if anyone found me in the same room with your unconscious body they'd toss me in Azkaban and throw away the key faster than I'd be able to cast any useful spells."

Hermione wanted to argue with him but knew there was more truth to his statement than either were in the mood to discuss.

"So…" Draco continued slowly, "Should I be offended at your reluctance to join the DMLE?"

She looked at his in surprise. Did he really think he was the source of her unease?

"What? No! Of course not!" She noticed his smile at her vehement denial and reined in her reaction. "I mean, no. Of course not." She repeated in a quiet voice.

His smile only widened and she quelled the urge to punch him in the throat.

"I was a little taken aback at the announcement. I just wasn't expecting it."

"I see. Though you seemed very concerned about telling Lillian. You obviously weren't aware she already gave her approval?"

She looked up at Draco and wondered why he was digging into this particular wound. They rarely discussed personal details. She suspected he wanted to hear as little about Hermione's personal life because she was married to Ron. Every time she slipped up and mentioned her husband in Draco's presence he couldn't resist taking a shot as thought the red head were there to argue with him.

"Um…" she debated whether this was a good idea, then decided it couldn't really hurt since technically the one person she was trying to keep this hidden from already knew. "Well, I was waiting for the right time to bring it up with her. She's been really good to me and I was afraid it would upset her. But honestly… I was just afraid."

Wait… what? Did she really just let that slip to Draco Malfoy? She closed her eyes, waiting for the sucker punch she knew he was about to deliver verbally.

"I understand. It's hard letting down the people you feel you owe the most."

Huh?

Hermione opened her eyes, wondering if she heard him right or if he was about to deliver the second half of his statement that would negate the sentiment of the first. But he said nothing more.

"Yeah… exactly."

He looked down at her and smiled softly. "I know I have a heart of stone, Granger, but I can relate to basic human emotion every now and then."

"I don't think you have a heart of stone."

"Well you are in the minority."

She wasn't sure what else to say and opted to fall into a comfortable silence instead.

But Draco was feeling uncharacteristically chatty. "Is that what had you in a conniption when you first walked in?"

She scowled. "I was not having a conniption!"

"What would you call it?"

"I- I was- it wasn't-,"

His smile held a smugness she could happily stab him for.

"I was a little rattled is all."

"Mm-hmm."

She shook her head and debated giving him the silent treatment the rest of the way to the lifts but she also realized she wanted to get it off her chest even more. And Draco happened to ask and happened to be standing there, so she supposed he'd have to do. If he didn't like what he heard he'd learn to not ask such prying questions.

"I was worried about Rose. I've been obsessively checking my phone all day waiting for Ron to update me about her healer's appointment."

Upon saying the words she realized she hadn't looked at her phone in nearly half an hour thanks to Kingsley's impromptu meeting. She quickly slid the device from her invisible skirt pocket and clicked the power button to illuminate the screen. Nothing. She sighed and cracked her neck, deciding to walk with Draco all the way to the lobby so she could call Ron and find out what was going on.

"Healer's appointment? Is she okay?"

Hermione swallowed and peered up at him hesitantly, wondering if bringing this up was a terrible idea.

"We've taken her in once a month since she was born. It's just a precaution." She paused and tried to decide how much more to say.

"I remember you had a difficult pregnancy, I only saw you once early on but I heard you worked from home during the last couple months."

"The last three months, actually. It was deemed a high-risk pregnancy. I was bedridden the last six weeks. I thought I was losing my mind."

Draco nodded to acknowledge he was listening but made no move to interrupt her. She swallowed and decided if he wanted to know she would tell him. They were quasi-friends anyway, right?

"How much do remember about our fifth year?"

Draco seemed taken aback by her segue but followed along nonetheless. "I've tried my best to block out my younger years but unfortunately I'm not nearly old enough to forget everything. I remember that was the year of the Toad Bitch."

Hermione snorted, deciding then and there she would forever refer to Umbridge in her head and to her friends as Toad Bitch.

"Yes, it was. And…"

She paused again, realizing what a supremely awkward conversation this was turning out to be and wishing like hell she could go back and avoid the topic altogether.

"The Department of Mysteries."

He spoke the words with no emotion and she wondered if he was regretting this little chat as much as she was.

"Um… yeah… and, well, I was injured pretty badly during the fight."

Draco nodded. "Yes, I vaguely recall you were in the Hospital Wing for quite a while."

"They brought me to Mungo's first. I begged them to release me to Poppy so I could at least have access to my school work."

She saw Draco open his mouth, no doubt a plethora of jabs on tongue, but then he surprised her once again.

"What happened, Granger?"

She took a deep breath and pushed ahead.

"I was hit by a pretty rare spell from Antonin Dolohov. It was-"

"Purple fire."

She gaped at him.

"Yes…"

"He hit you dead on with it?"

"Well, no, not exactly. He sent it nonverbally and I managed a shield, but he shattered through it. It would have caught me in the chest if I hadn't dived for safety. Instead it grazed my lower torso…"

She wondered if Draco knew enough about the curse to understand the implications without Hermione having to elaborate.

"I saw him perform the curse a few times, each resulting in instant fatality. I am amazed you survived at only sixteen, even if it was only a partial hit."

"So, do you know what the curse does?"

"It kills."

She twisted her hands in front of her awkwardly.

"Er… yeah, but do you know how it kills? Or what it does to the body of its victims?"

Draco looked over at her and she forced herself to meet his eyes. He wore such an intense look she stumbled in her tracks. He reached out a steadying hand but once she regained her footing he continued to guide her along by her arm.

Before she could shake free of his grasp he directed her out of the hallway and into a private alcove. It was narrow and for them both to fit they had to stand with only a few inches of separation. He read the question in her eyes.

"I think this conversation is better had in privacy, don't you? There are ears all over these halls and I suspect you don't want tomorrow's Prophet headline to be about you and your daughter."

She nodded. "Good point," then chewed on her cheek before adding, "Listen, Malfoy, I know this is awkward enough for the both of us. You asked about Rose to be nice but you don't have to listen to me-"

"Hermione."

Hearing her first name pass his lips jolted her from her thoughts. It sounded strange when he said it, foreign to her ears.

"I wouldn't have asked if I didn't want to know. And I wouldn't have pulled you over here if I didn't want to know all of it."

She nodded, feeling reality slipping further and further away. Draco Malfoy pulled her into a private alcove to hear about her personal business. Totally normal.

"Well, the healers never saw anything like it before. They had to guess at treatments which allowed it spread a bit further. At first it affected my gastrointestinal. I couldn't eat or drink for a couple months, taking everything through an IV when magical absorption wouldn't suffice. And when I was on the mend I still could only drink liquids for weeks. I lost so much weight I looked haggard."

She wasn't aware she had broken eye contact and was staring at his jacket clad shoulder, lost in her memories.

"I remember at the time thinking the stomach problems were the absolute worst. Other girls would have loved the weight loss, but I could've given a toss about those kinds of things. Later when they told me the curse spread to my reproductive organs I thought that was the least of my worries. If anything I thought it might mean getting a break from my monthlies, which sounded great. I didn't realize… it hadn't really set in, what that meant long term."

She paused and realized how deathly still and silent Draco was. She couldn't bear to look at his face. She knew he was listening, that was enough for now.

"The curse… it burns you up inside. Obviously, given the name. But it's not like regular fire, burning from the outside in. This burns from the inside out, leaving behind nothing but scar tissue. If it had hit higher I would have died on the Ministry floor. My major organs would have shut down. But instead it decimated my uterus and at sixteen I thought that was pretty lucky all things considered."

She let out a sad laugh, remembering the Mungo's healer telling her she'd likely never conceive and being more concerned with studying for her NEWTS.

She cleared her throat to stop the tears from welling. "Anyway. I took a bunch of different potions everyday for years to help mend the damage. My stomach healed pretty well. That was much easier to treat sense the potions absorbed directly into the tissues there. But my reproductive organs were much harder to fix. They told me I'd never be able to conceive. I was fine with adopting. But Ron wanted a child of his own so badly. I was willing to try anything. After endless treatments in magical and muggle hospitals, tonics and potions, spells and rituals, we finally conceived Rose."

Actually, they finally conceived and miscarried, but her heart couldn't bear to relive that moment in the shadowed alcove.

"It was a rocky pregnancy from the start. Lots of spotting early on. My uterine walls were very weak and the bigger she grew the more dangerous it was for both of us. But uterine scarring isn't that uncommon, especially among muggle women, so there were treatment options to mitigate risk. Staying bedridden was the worst for me. But obviously a small price to pay for Rose."

Draco squeezed her arm. She hadn't realized he'd reached out.

"Why does Rose have monthly check ups?"

Hermione took a deep breath, feeling drained and acutely aware of the cell phone in her pocket.

"When she was born she was covered in a purple rash. The healers weren't sure what it was but weren't too concerned either. Rashes are common with newborns, usually due to hormones from the womb and they fade after a few days. And it did. Fade that is. But then I started cramping and my scar from the curse started burning. I wrote it off as unrelated occurrences, the last thing I wanted to see what the inside of another hospital. But then Rose started screaming and when I picked her up I saw the rash had returned. I rushed her Mungo's and halfway there my pain and cramping stopped and Rose calmed down. The healers found nothing wrong with her and as for me, they couldn't figure out why my scar was suddenly burning after over a decade of no residual symptoms."

She crossed her arms. "We went home but over the following week my pain would flare up out of nowhere. But even more alarming, every time it did, even when I didn't make a sound, Rose would throw a fit and the rash would return. I was terrified. I am terrified. I have no idea what is happening with my baby and I'm scared I've somehow passed Dolohov's curse onto her. The healers say it's impossible, that curses can't be passed from mother to child, but the truth is they know very little about the extent of this curse since there's no documented case of anyone surviving it. And with Dolohov still at large we can't exactly ask him for an explanation of how it all works."

"What about the Death Eaters that were captured? Maybe he shared information with one of them?"

"Harry already tried. Or rather, he had Ministry appointed Leglimences try. None of the inmates knew anything more than you do. Just that it was deadly every time, except for the one time it wasn't. Apparently Dolohov wasn't too pleased I survived, either. Suppose I ruined his perfect kill rate."

Draco's jaw clenched and fire flared in his eyes, it was brief but she definitely saw the rage take hold for a moment. And then he schooled his expression into his cool mask of indifference.

"And the healers still don't know what's causing the rash? Is it still happening?"

"The last flare up was a few weeks ago. They've lessened, but it's definitely still too frequent for my liking."

"And your scar has been hurting just as often?"

"Yes. I see the healer's, too, just not as frequently."

"Why not? Your condition is just as serious. You should be seeing healers every time it occurs, Granger."

Oh, so they were back to last names, were they?

"Like I have time for that, Malfoy. I'm a little busy raising a family, changing careers and investigating some git's faulty wards and dodgy bank account."

The seriousness that had settled over them over the last several minutes was broken and a smirk formed at the corner of his mouth.

"Alright, Granger. Have it your way. Collapse in the middle of one of your bleeding heart rallies. Unicorns that lost their horns or something equally ridiculous."

"Ridiculous? Unicorns have been-"

"I will murder a unicorn in front of you if it gets you to stop talking."


	9. Chapter Nine

**May 3, 2006**  
**Ministry of Magic**

Hermione told Draco she’d meet him at Gringotts tomorrow. As soon as they parted ways in the main lobby of the Ministry she pulled out her phone and called Ron. She was equal parts frustrated and relieved when he answered on the third ring.

“Hey babe, what’s up?”

“What’s up? I’m a nervous wreck! Are you still at Mungo’s? How is Rose? What did the healer say?”

“We’re heading to the apparition point now. Can I call you back in twenty minutes?”

“Twenty minutes!”

“I’m starving, I skipped breakfast and thought I’d grab some-”

“Ron Bilius Weasley, if you don’t tell me what the healer said this instant so help me god-”

“Merlin! Alright, Mione! Clearwater said everything was fine, same as the last seven visits.”

“That’s it?”

“What else were you hoping for?”

She closed her eyes and pinched the bridge of her nose, “I am not hoping for anything else, Ron. But you’ve been up there for hours, I assumed something happened.”

“Oh, I asked them to move the appointment to 11.”

“What? Why?”

“Because the shop was short staffed. George and Angie are still visiting her folks up north and Marko couldn’t get there before then.”

“Oh. Okay. Well, I wish you told me. I’ve been losing my mind with worry.”

“Yeah well that’s what you do.”

She blinked. “Excuse me?”

“Oh crap, I didn’t mean anything by it, Mione. I already told you I’m starving. You know how I get when I’m hungry.”

She took a deep breath, “Alright. I’m glad that she had a good check up.”

“Me, too. I keep telling you that nothing’s wrong with her. I think we should stop taking her in every month. It’s pointless.”

She swallowed heavily, trying to push past the urge to argue. She didn’t think the check ups were pointless. Far from it. She spent most nights tossing and turning, terrified her infant was afflicted with a dark curse the wizarding world knew next to nothing about.

But Ron didn’t see it that way. She’d already tried to convince him of her concerns until she was blue in the face. She decided to let this one go, fighting with him over the phone was a fruitless endeavor.

“Well I have a bit of news of my own.”

“Really? Can it wait? I really need to get some food in me, Mione.”

She closed her eyes. “Yes, Ron. It can wait.”

She heard him sigh on the other end. “Merlin’s beard. I’m sorry, Mione. I’m not trying to sound like a prat I just… never mind. What’s your news?”

She almost wanted to tell him to just stuff his face with food already out of spite but decided she was being sensitive; Ron always acted grumpy when he missed a meal and she shouldn’t take personal offense.

“I got transferred to the DMLE today.”

She was met with such total silence she pulled the phone from her ear to check if the call had dropped. No, it was still running.

“Ron?”

“Sorry, what did you say?”

“I got transferred-”

“To the DMLE.”

“Um, yeah.”

“You just got transferred out of the blue? No advanced notice?”

“Well, no, I mean I applied for the transfer-”

“Wait? What? When was this?”

She felt the heat rising up her neck and into her face. She pulled at her collar to alleviate the discomfort.

“Um… about six weeks ago.”

More silence.

“I was going to tell you but I didn’t want to make a big deal about it, especially if I didn’t get it.”

“Uh huh.”

She bit her lip. “Are you mad at me?”

“Why would I be mad?”

“I don’t know but you sound like you’re upset.”

“Well I’m not.”

She sighed. “Okay then.”

She wasn’t sure if he’d end the call or if she should. This was decidedly more awkward than pouring her heart out to Draco in the alcove. What an interesting day this was shaping up to be.

“Listen, Mione, I’m happy for you, I am. I’m just a little confused as to why you put off telling me for six weeks.”

“I didn’t put it off, I just, it’s like I said, I didn’t want to… I mean…”

“You didn’t want to upset me.”

“What? No. I mean, why would it upset you?”

“Why do you think?”

She closed her eyes again, feeling a headache coming on and really regretting her decision to break the news over the phone.

“You begged me to quit the Aurors, Hermione. Begged me.” She could hear his scowl through the phone. “You said it was too dangerous, we had Rose to think about, you couldn’t bare the thought of losing me. You were sick and tired of pacing the living room floor waiting for me to come home. You wanted me to take on a safer job, something with stable hours. And I listened. As much as it killed me to leave Harry and the job I’ve idolized since I was ten years old, I listened to you and I left it all behind. And not six months later you tell me you’ve taken a job in the same department.”

She was struck speechless for a whole five seconds before she fired back.

“This is hardly the same thing, Ron! I will be stationed primarily behind a desk at the DMLE working on case files. I won’t be going through the Auror training program or going on missions, I won’t be risking my life or leaving the house at 3am for a bust. This is nothing like the work you were doing. I can ensure I come home alive and well to my family every night, something you could never guarantee. And frankly I resent you would accuse me of, of, of betraying you like that!”

She felt like fire was pulsing through her veins and suddenly a burning sensation exploded across her lower abdomen. She wrapped her arm around her middle, doubling over and sucking in a gasp.

“Mione? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, “ she wheezed.

“You don’t sound fine, what happened?”

“Nothing!” She forced herself into an upright position. “Nothing’s happened, Ron. Aside from you being an insensitive ass, as always!”

“Mione, I didn’t mean to-”

“Save it, Ron. There’s no point discussing this any further right now. We’re both too riled up. I’ll see you at home.”

“Yeah, okay. Sure. I’ll see you at home.”

Hermione ended the called and limped towards the women’s loo. She was so enraged over Ron’s reaction it almost over powered the pain radiating from her scar.

Almost. Damn her stomach hurt.

She sat fully clothed on the toilet for a good ten minutes, eyes closed and focused on her breathing until the pain passed. It always passed. That she was assured of. She just didn’t know what made it flare up to begin with.

She waited for the other occupants to wash their hands and leave before slowly standing and leaving the stall. She ran the cool water and splashed her face, taking calming breaths and thinking that with the direction her day had headed she might as well get all her cards on the table and talk with Lillian.

After lingering in the restroom long enough to be sure the pain had truly passed she made her way back to the fourth level where her Department was located. She paced back and forth past Lillian’s door five times before gathering her Gryffindor courage and knocking.

“Come in.”

Hermione peaked her head in. “Good afternoon. Do you have a few minutes?”

Lillian gazed at her over the top of her stylish glasses and smiled. “Of course, Mione.  
Take a seat. Just give me a minute to finish up this letter.”

“Of course.”

Hermione shut the door behind her and made her way over to the chair across from her boss at the desk. She glanced around the modern office, her gaze settling on photos of Lillian at various vacation spots around the world. Parasailing, skiing, skydiving, mountain climbing, posing in front of ruins, the pyramids, the Eiffel Tower. And always with a radiant smile on her face.

Hermione admired that her mentor made the most of her independence. Lillian never lacked for male company but she never allowed herself to become ‘tied down’ as she called it, thought she admitted she’d happily walk the plank for the right person. That person just hadn’t happened to come along yet. And if they never did that was fine, too. She was secure and entertained with her single lifestyle just fine.

As she stared at the pictures Hermione wondered what her own life might have been like had she not become engaged to Ron right after school. If she’d have taken a year or two to travel the world, or at least visit a few locations on her bucket list…

She shook her head dismissing the thought. It was fruitless to ponder such things now. She had a great life. A great job, a great husband, and a beautiful daughter. She didn’t want for anything. Yet she felt her eyes lingering on photographs a moment longer until Lillian gently cleared her throat to gain Hermione’s attention.

“Something you’d like to discuss?”

Hermione flattened her palms along the top of her skirt and swallowed.

“Yes, I wanted to talk to you about my transfer request.”

Lillian smiled and removed her glasses, folding and setting them aside.

“Ah yes, your top secret transfer request for the DMLE.”

Hermione felt the damn break within her.

“Lillian, I’m so sorry I didn’t say anything to you sooner. I was afraid of disappointing you. You’ve been so good to me here. You’ve taught me so much and given me so much leeway. I wouldn’t be where I am today without your guidance. I promise the request has nothing to do with you, or even my job. I love my job! I just wanted to get a more well rounded experience within the Ministry to broaden my skill set and open more doors for my future career. I-”

“Hermione, take a breath, love.”

Hermione found herself sucking in a lungful of air.

“Listen,” Lillian began, leaning forward and leveling Hermione with her ‘serious discussion’ stare. “I knew this day would come eventually. And as much as I adore you and will be devastated to see you go, I am happy to see you flourish in your career at the Ministry. And to be perfectly honest, if you didn’t apply for a transfer I would have put you forth for one myself.”

Hermione blinked. “Really?”

“Yes, really. You are way too brilliant and driven to remain in the same position for years, little less the same Department for the entirety of your career. Some people plateau. And that’s fine. They’re they Steady-Eddie’s of the work force and keep the lights on and water running. But you are destined for great things, Hermione. I wouldn’t be surprised if you’re tapped for future Minister someday.”

Hermione sank back in her chair. This was not the conversation she had expected.

“Wow. Thank you, Lillian. I didn’t think… I mean, I’m just so grateful to you and everything you’ve taught me, everything you’ve done for me.”

“Oh come off it, you’re the most brilliant mind I’ve worked with in decades. Maybe ever. You would have been amazing under anyone’s tutelage. Just like you’ll be amazing in the DMLE. I would love to be greedy and keep you all for myself, but I know you’re too great of an asset to the wizarding world to keep cooped up here forever.”

Hermione felt something wet hit her hand and looked down. Water? She watched another drop fall and soak into the fabric of her skirt. She reached a hand to her face and swept it across her cheek, feeling a pool of wetness.

“Oh Mione, sweetheart, don’t cry.”

“I don’t mean to. I’m just so relieved, I thought you’d be upset with me.”

“Do you really think so little of me?”

“No, the opposite. I think the world of you. And the thought of disappointing you is crushing. I’m so used to anticipating the worst-case scenarios in life that I was braced for the worst. But of course I should have known you’d support me like you do in all things. I feel so foolish.”

Lillian stood and came around the desk, leaning against the tabletop beside Hermione and taking her hands in her own.

“There are many words I’d use to describe you and foolish is not one of them. And I suppose after spending your formative years battling the forces of evil and fighting for your life you’re bound to go into most situations with your defenses up. But know this, Hermione, I will always be one of your biggest supporters. Whatever you decide to do. I was honored to work beside you for these last six years and I look forward to watching you realize your full potential in the years to come.”

There was no help for it now, Hermione was in full on cry mode and choked back a sob. She blamed her emotional state on the entirety of her day. Stress about Rose, the sudden announcement of her new job, opening old wounds with Draco and then fighting with Ron… now this heart to heart with Lillian. It was too much for her overloaded mind to handle and the only way to release the pent up feelings was through tears. She still felt completely foolish but knew she was too far-gone to stop.

Lillian pulled her up and wrapped her arms around her. Hermione hugged her boss turned mentor turned friend tightly and felt the weight that had been pressing on her chest over the last few weeks melt away.

* * *

**May 3, 2006**  
**Malfoy Manor**

Draco stood outside the large iron gates of his familial home and felt a tightening in his chest.

He couldn’t believe he was back here.

He promised himself four years ago when he boarded up the Manor he would never set foot on the property again. Any business regarding the land or structure he would handle via owl and let his lawyers sort out.

And yet here he was, standing at the edge of a waking nightmare with the setting sun at his back.

As he peered through the iron bars at the massive home beyond he felt a chill run the length of his spine. Despite the seasonably warm spring breeze he felt a familiar coldness setting into his bones and his vision hazed.

_Stop being such a weak fool. It’s an empty house. No more. The evil that once resided inside is long gone. You’ve walked the empty hallways and barren rooms yourself. It’s over. He’s dead._

The crack of apparition pulled him away from the swirling vortex of his own mind.

“Malfoy. Hope I didn’t keep you waiting long.”

“I only arrived a few minutes ago myself. Shall we get this over with?”

The Great Savior nodded and stepped toward the gates. The ward magic reacted to his energy signature and created a ripple effect through the air. It was a warning. Stay back.

Potter wasted no time pulling his wand and casting a series of diagnostic spells similar to the ones Draco cast last night. After those failed to show anything of use he began casting a series of more advanced spells Draco vaguely recognized but wasn’t as familiar with.

“What are you doing?”

“Checking for any signs of tampering.”

“I’m sorry, did I suddenly sprout red hair and a learning disability? You don’t have to explain things like I’m your slow-witted partner. I can clearly see you are checking the integrity of the wards. I’m inquiring as to the specifics of the enchantments.”

He was only slightly disappointed when Potter didn’t so much as blink in response, his sole focus on the task at hand as he directed his wand in a complicated dance of magic. But his next words held an edge Draco easily recognized.

“You could try asking nicely, Malfoy, and maybe I’d be more inclined to answer your questions. Also Ron and I aren’t partners anymore.”

“Hm. Finally got tired of toting one hundred eighty pounds of dead weight?”

Harry finished his current spell and turned to look at him.

“Actually Ron was one of the best trackers we had. He personally dragged in Yaxley, Travers and Selwyn. He also was integral to taking down Greyback. He was a highly respected member of the Aurors and saved more lives than I can count, including my own.”

Draco felt his ire rise at the discussion of the Weasel. He wasn’t sure why he detested the man so much all these years later. He had moved past many of his childhood ideals and had made amends with several of his former school peers, those who were willing to be in the same room with him anyway. Many still looked at him as though he was scum at the bottom of their shoe, which in turn prompted him to unleash his sharp tongue.

“Well it sounds like he was belle of the ball. I’m amazed your lot was able to hold things together when he left. I fear for my safety on the streets of Magical Britain without the Weasel King there to ferret out the criminal.”

“Interesting choice of words there, Malfoy.”

Draco scowled as Potter gave him his back and resumed his spell work.

His interactions with The Boy Who Lived to Piss Him Off were a bit of a mixed bag. Despite their verbal sparring the deep seeded animosity that defined their early rivalry was long faded. He certainly wasn’t friendly with Scarhead. In truth he held onto more resentment than he knew Potter deserved, seeing as the man didn’t exactly choose to be targeted by a sadistic madman while still in swaddling clothes. But the foundation of their relationship was riddled with too many cracks and fissures to allow for anything more than a tepid exchange when their paths were forced to cross, something Draco went out of his way to avoid.

Then again, it wasn’t only Potter that he sought to avoid. Since his family’s fall from grace and his father’s subsequent imprisonment he did his utmost to evade the majority of Wizarding Britain.

When the war first ended he shut himself up in the Manor until the ghosts and shadows spun terrible nightmares and haunted his every waking moment.

So he tried his luck abroad, but his family’s notoriety followed him to the continent. People he’d never met shouted obscenities and spit at him in the streets like heathens. Worst yet, their barbaric behavior inspired an even deeper shame that followed him like a loyal shadow and plagued his damaged mind even further.

He seriously considered moving to the States. He went so far as to visit New York City and instantly fell in love with the anonymity inherent in the bright lights and surging crowds. Even among the magical population everyone was too busy to pay him any mind.

No one knew his name. No one cared to know his name. His past didn’t matter. It was his first breath of fresh air in years, or more specifically, since he kneeled at the altar of evil and allowed his flesh to be seared by its brand.

He looked for a flat in the city and visited MACUSA to research the process for applying for Magical citizenship. He was ready to pack his bags and flee from the demons clawing at his sanity. But then a major obstacle emerged. The only thing that could possibly prevent him from leaving. The ultimate deal breaker.

His mother.

After the injury she received during the final battle she was never the same. And her health took a turn for the worse following Lucius’s imprisonment. Though her visits to him in Azkaban became less and less frequent as she deteriorated she adamantly refused to live anywhere that prevented her from seeing him should the need arise.

Moving to the States would require either International Floo, something she was too weak to accomplish, International Apparition, which was even more draining since it required many pit stops along the way, or muggle air flight, something even he refused to trust his life to. A massive steel cylinder full of people and luggage and Merlin knows what else, flying through the sky without the aid of magic? It was the most preposterous thing he’d seen in his life. And considering he spent a fortnight exploring the streets of Manhattan that was saying something.

But this meant his mother refused to accompany him abroad. Still, she encouraged him to go. She saw the effect their new station in society was having on her only child, her most beloved son, and he suspected his own growing depression was a contributing factor to her declining health.

But he couldn’t leave her. It was a matter of principal and love. He refused to abandon her to a society that abhorred her, especially when she was at her more venerable physically and mentally. But mostly he couldn’t fathom something happening to her while he was gone, rushing to be at her bedside only to arrive moments too late… he was riddled with enough regret to last several lifetimes and couldn’t afford to add more.

The ultimate irony was that the only place left for Draco to seek refuge was in the muggle world, a turn of events he still couldn’t quite believe even years later.

His introduction to muggle society had been a terribly rocky and embarrassing ordeal. Even though he bought a flat that afforded him the privacy to use magic as he pleased, the moment he stepped outside its walls he was at the mercy of a people he spent his childhood detesting and his teen years advocating the extermination of.

And yet they treated him with respect and decency. They afforded him the ability to lead a life of his choosing without ridicule, without the disdain and judgment his own magical brethren subjected him to.

Fleeing to the muggle world, getting lost in the bustling crowds and endless streets and massive structures helped him evade certain demons, but almost just as soon new ones emerged.

The self-loathing crept up on him like a Snatcher in the dark. He wasn’t planning on enjoying his life in the muggle world. It was merely a hide out until he could find his way back to the top of the magical world he was meant to help rule.

Even after the war, after his family’s public shaming, he still firmly believed the Malfoys would someday return to their former glory. After all, their deeply rooted history as leaders of the Wizarding world couldn’t simply be erased due to the actions of the most recent generations.

Though his father was behind bars there were many within the Wizengamot and other positions of power that respected him, either for his war affiliations, his political savvy, or some combination of both. Voldemort had many followers beyond his marked men and women. And still there were more people who supported some or all of his ideals though they never publicly picked a side during the war. These people still backed the Malfoys, even if they had to do so privately. Draco simply had to wait for the dust to settle and for the political climate to once again shift, as it always did.

But his excursion into the Muggle world turned out to be much more eye opening than he could have ever anticipated. He learned early on he had to throw out most of his preconceived notions. He did so not out of open-minded curiosity but out of sheer necessity. Thinking of the Muggles as primitive beasts only served to alienate him from the very society he needed to immerse himself in. Blending in meant survival, and survival meant everything to Draco.

And then days turned into weeks turned into months turned into years, as is so apt to do.

His struggle to go about the simplest of daily tasks without the use of his wand lessened. Until one day, pressing the pedestrian call button became an automatic gesture. Hailing a taxi or ordering a car service via his mobile app was no different than checking his email while waiting for his coffee and muffin at the café. Using lifts that only went up and down and relying on street lamps to illuminate the paths he took to get home at night were the new norm. Sometimes he caught himself using the appliances in his flat, his wand abandoned on the coffee table or nightstand.

Once he even forgot to take it along, concealed in the lining of his tailored jacket, when he ran a quick errand.

He made it halfway down the sidewalk before realizing his mistake and spent a good thirty seconds standing there like a well dressed mime as he internally debated whether or not to go back inside and retrieve it.

For better or worse he decided to proceed to the small market stand at the corner for supplies without his most powerful weapon within easy reach.

And as he returned home with plastic bags in hand he realized the full extent of his transformation.

Here he was, stepping out from the security of his private and heavily warded flat to venture the public streets of muggle London with no wand, no robes, no shred of anything tying him to the world he was once a part of. He even mingled with other shoppers at the market and smiled warmly at the wife of the owner, remembering details from past interactions and politely asking as to her health and family. She called him by his first name and patted him on the hand with genuine affection in her eyes.

He stopped dead in his tracks just outside the door to his building. He stared at his reflection in the windowpane. He looked like a well-to-do, upper-class, trust fund kid. But above all else, he looked like a muggle.

A muggle.

Somehow he had lost sight of his mission. Forgot what his true purpose was by coming here. He had somehow… become happy. Become content. Able to sleep through the night without waking in screams of terror and cold sweat. To look in the mirror and meet his own eyes. To mark the months on the calendar without counting the days and waiting for something, anything, to deliver him from the unbearable agony of his life.

And suddenly he knew with absolute certainty that this was the moment of no return. Either he interpreted this moment as a red flag and abandoned his life among the muggles before he was sucked in deeper, or he treated this is as the first day of the rest of his life. A life with one foot planted firmly in both worlds…

He stared at his reflection for several minutes before coming to a decision.

As he headed inside the rain started to fall. He chose to take it as a sign.

_As the muggles would say_ he thought and smiled sardonically to himself.

The rain symbolized a new beginning, a chance to wash clean the sins of the past and be reborn anew. He tipped his head back and closed his eyes, allowing his face and hair and shoulders to catch the drizzle until his jacket was soaked through and clung wetly to his frame.

The memory of that day, of that decision, was vivid in Draco’s mind. His life had taken many winding paths since then, many more milestones had been reached, but that particular moment would always bear a great weight that he measured all others against.

But now he stood in the graveyard of his past. Every sin, nightmare, regret and shameful deed was buried on these grounds. Lurking, hiding beneath the rock and soil, waiting to reach up and grab him with bony fingers and sharp talons and drag him down to hell.

And he got to share the moment with none other than Harry Fucking Potter.

He wondered what other ironic twists of fate life would shit on him.

“Well,” Potter said, lowering his wand once more, “Seems the wards are still functioning as standard blood wards, though I detected a multitude of fractures. Nothing major. Just hairline cracks and a bit of scarring, most likely from a bombarda. Was there any other recent activity in the reports? During the days or weeks leading up to last night?”

“No activity that’s out of the norm.”

“What kind of activity is considered normal?”

Draco pinned him with his most derisive stare.

“There’s no need to play coy with me, Potter. You know damn well why the wards are battered.”

Draco refused to look affected by his own words, as if talking about the exchange rate of wizarding currency instead of the attacks and vandalism against his family home, which they both knew was merely a way of spitting on the Malfoy name.

Potter looked away first, shifting his focus back to the gates though he made no move to cast any additional spells.

“How often do attempted break-ins occur?”

Upon hearing the even and authoritative tone in Potter’s voice Draco felt his defensive posture relax. He couldn’t bare the man’s sympathy or worse yet, his pity.

“When the war first ended and my mother and I still lived here it was constant. Groups of people would take turns camping just outside the wards, shouting at us day and night using a sonorous charm. Luckily they were all too inept to break through. After a while they finally grew bored and dispersed. I thought boarding up the Manor would put an end to it. I assumed their abuse was aimed at us and would follow to our new residence. Some did, of course. But others thought they might try their luck at breaking into the abandoned home, leaving their mark on the walls that once housed a great evil. I surmised this as their intention based on the lovely messages I’d find scorched into the grass or trees outside the ward barrier. In fact, there’s one on that alder about twenty feet to your left.”

Potter spun around, searching out the tree and then obviously spotting it, his spine going rigid. Draco had stopped reacting to the vandalism years ago. It was only the verbal abuse that still ate at him, try as he might to be indifferent to it all.

“How often do you check for new vandalism?” Potter called out over his shoulder, having approached the tree to cast detection spells on the carvings.

“I don’t. I haven’t set foot on the property since boarding it up. I send a few elves to inspect things once a month. They recast the maintenance spells within the Manor and oversee the landscaping. They also clean up any vandalism and check the wards.”

Potter must have been satisfied the graffiti harbored no dark magic, only a tribute to the Malfoys’ love of fellating any dark lords that crossed their path. Though it seemed the author felt words wouldn’t sufficiently impart the message they were trying to get across so they included a lovely illustration as well. Though crudely drawn Draco was nonetheless flattered the artist thought he was so flexible. Granted it was difficult to tell who was who in the drawing, what with so many intertwining limbs.

“Do the same elves conduct the monthly inspections?”

“Yes, I believe so. I don’t have much interaction with them. I simply instruct them to maintain the Manor. I suppose they could take shifts.”

“Do you know if they disable the wards to inspect them?”

“I haven’t instructed them on how to do so, so I highly doubt it. Though I suppose it is a possibility. They are stationed at my mother’s current residence. She knows how to dismantle them and may have passed that knowledge along.”

“Who else besides your mother knows how to dismantle them?”

“No one.”

“You’re positive of that? There’s no way your mother might have-“

“I wouldn’t have answered you if I wasn’t positive. My mother is ill, not senile. She would never share such information.”

“But she might have told an elf?”

“That is hardly the same thing. The elves are loyal to the House of Malfoy, their magical bond forbids them from acting against us.”

“Yes, but there are exceptions to that rule.”

The words hung heavy in the air, both men obviously thinking of the same creature that caused such an uproar and impacted their lives, though in very different ways, years prior.

Draco exhaled heavily through his nose. Of course Potter would bring up that wretched beast, dragging out old memories like peeling the scab off a festering wound.

“Yes, I suppose there are. However not long after the war we freed the majority of our elves. Though there were some who begged to remain in service to our family. We allowed them to stay in exchange for a fair wage, though they didn’t know the first thing to with money and took to fashioning the coins into jewelry and trinkets. After we left the Manor we again offered to free them but they were adamant about coming along. I don’t delude myself into thinking they have any great love for me. But they do love my mother, of that I am certain. A few of them have known her since she was a child. They would follow her to the ends of the earth and back. They are loyal to the House of Malfoy because they are loyal to her, and would rather cast themselves into the flames than betray her, or by extension her son. So yes, Potter, I am positive that I can trust the elves in my employ, beyond a shadow of a doubt.”

Potter seemed to consider everything Draco had said before formulating his next line of inquiry.

“I believe you, Malfoy. Your elves wouldn’t knowingly betray your trust. But their loyalty and access to you and your mother, along with their unique brand of magic, makes them a very attractive target for manipulation.”

“Elves can’t be Imperiused for long stretches of time. The spell has to be renewed much too frequently for it to be of any use.”

“You said they come here monthly.”

“There’s no way it would last that long.”

“It depends on the directive given and the strength of the spell. It wouldn’t be useful for turning them into long term spies, but if all the perpetrator needed was to disable to wards long enough to cross them-“

“Their monthly maintenance check wasn’t last night, there were no elves on the premises.”

“Can you be certain of that?”

Draco fell silent. His mind was whirling with outrage Potter would accuse the loyal servants of his household of such a betrayal, even unwittingly, and sudden terror of what the implications would mean if such an event were to occur. If his enemies had planted imperiused puppets in his mother’s home, where she was at her most vulnerable…. He needed to check on her at once.

Seeming to sense Draco’s sudden unease Potter put his hands up in a staying gesture.

“Calm down, Malfoy, I’m just running through every possibility. That’s my job. And I hate to brag, but I’m very good at my job. I’ll get to the bottom of this.”

Draco knew Potter was throwing him an easy shot to take his mind off his rising panic. As tempting as it was to take the bait nothing overrode his concern.

“I need to check on my mother. If the elves were somehow involved that would put her in the greatest danger.”

Potter nodded. “I can assign a couple people to station outside her home if that’s where the evidence points. But right now I need you here. We still have to look inside the house.”

Draco felt his blood run cold. He was mistaken. There was something he could feel more strongly than his concern for his mother.

Terror.


	10. Chapter Ten

**May 3, 2006**   
**Malfoy Manor**

The Manor was just as he left it.

Desolate. Barren. Dark.

A shell of the opulent home he had grown up in.

Draco stood in the once grand foyer, staring at nothing in particular and trying not to draw comparisons between the house and his own fall from grace.

He may have been a shell of a man when he lived here but he was no longer that lost, lonely soul floating through life without meaning or purpose. Now he had both in spades and he wasn’t going to let these empty walls drag him into their deep depths.

“I’m going to take a look around, you should do the same. Take note of anything that looks different or out of place from how you left it. I’ll meet you back here.”

Draco wasn’t overly enthusiastic to take orders from his former nemesis, especially in his own home. Their rivalry may have been behind them but some habits die harder than others. Draco bit down the automatic retort that lingered on his tongue, opting to walk past the man without acknowledgement instead.

“Always a pleasure.” He heard Potter mutter before stepping out of sight into the grand ballroom.

Draco lingered in the foyer, unsure of where to start his inspection. His eyes fell on the empty marble on either side of the main doors where the massive dragon statues once stood tall and interlocking, ebony and white marble, a metaphor for the Malfoy and Black families merging, coming together as one to create new life. The statutes had been his father’s gift to his mother when she was pregnant. They already knew it was to be a boy and had finally settled on a name. Draco, their precious baby dragon.

His mother loved those statues. Whether they reminded her more of her husband or her son he didn’t know. He had them moved from the manor to her new estate up north. They seemed comically out of place in the warmly decorated country home, but she beamed with happiness when he surprised her with them. He’d fill every square inch of the house with dragon figurines if it made her happy, even for just a moment. She smiled so infrequently these days.

Thinking of the interlocking dragons made him think of Astoria. She had been very adamant that he not get her anything to commemorate her pregnancy. She didn’t want a shower or any kind of party. She claimed she didn’t want to jinx it. But he knew that was only a half-truth. He suspected she didn’t want to become too attached should the pregnancy terminate early or result in another…

Draco closed his eyes, forcing the memory from his mind.

It was this house. It dragged out the darkest things he kept buried within. Not for the first time he wondered if it was truly cursed as so many others claimed it to be. A massive haunted house, filled with ghosts and boggarts to terrorize everyone who dare enter its doors.

Draco opted to go in the opposite direction Potter disappeared. Just as soon as he started walking he halted.

He stood at the entrance to the dining hall.

The chairs had been moved to storage but the long table remained, covered with a magically enlarged sheet so the elves didn’t have to exert as much energy casting cleaning and stasis charms during their monthly inspections.

He stared at the fabric-covered tabletop, but in his mind’s eye the sheet was gone. In its place was a massive carnivorous snake. The chairs were still there, each one filled with a man or woman more terrible than the next. And at the head of the table sat…

Draco sucked in a breath and closed his eyes.

This house was a plague. He couldn’t believe he managed to live here as long as he did after the war. No wonder his mother’s health declined so rapidly. It wasn’t Lucius’s imprisonment; it was being trapped in this waking nightmare. He should have burnt it to the ground years ago.

Maybe he still would.

Draco turned on his heel and retreated, there was no other word for it, into the nearest adjacent room. Any place was better than the dining hall.

That was until Draco’s racing mind calmed down enough for him to take in his new surroundings.

And but of course, there he stood in the middle of the drawing room.

Fucking Merlin. Was there no corner of this house that didn’t hold horrific memories?

He felt a pang in his chest, rubbing at the spot until it passed. He wasn’t sure what caused it. Maybe indigestion from the stress of the day. Yes, that had to be it. Certainly it couldn’t be the dark stain on the hardwood, the remains of Granger’s blood as it pooled beneath her writhing, screaming form as his aunt-

Draco pinched the bride of his nose, willing the memories away. But the past was stronger in this room. It held him rooted to the spot and frozen, unable to run away to another corner of the house in search of sanctuary.

_“Please, please stop! I don’t know anything! Please no more!”_

_“Shut your filthy lying mouth you Mudblood whore!”_

Draco swallowed the rising bile in his throat. Dear Circe, make it stop. He wished he had stayed in the dining room. As traumatizing as it was to watch a Hogwarts professor murdered and fed to a massive viper before his adolescent eyes, the horrors he witnessed in this room were far more devastating to his psyche.

_Oh you poor sodding pissant, were you traumatized by watching someone else be tortured? I’m sure Granger feels just terrible for bleeding out on the floor while you were busying being useless and pathetic._

But now that he’d spoken her name in his mind there was nothing for it, he was plunged into a swirling abyss of memories that were more vivid than any pensieve he’d encountered.

_“What happened to you, Granger?”_

_Besides the horrific acts I was witness to… What else were you made to endure, what other atrocities did you overcome with your insurmountable strength and bravery?_

_“I was hit by a pretty rare spell from Antonin Dolohov. It was-“_

“Purple fire.” Draco whispered to himself in the drawing room, an unwilling passenger on this trip down the rabbit hole of his nightmares.

_“Rabastan, fetch me my blade.”_

_“Fetch it yourself you vile bitch.”_

_“How dare you speak to me that way! I’ll castrate you myself before starting on that filth in the other room!”_

_This caught Antonin’s attention. He rose to his feet and passed Draco, who was currently doing his best impression of a statue. Frozen, pale and deathly still as he willed himself to sink into the floor._

_“What is this? You’ve a prisoner? Who is it?”_

_“Go back to learning to scribble your name, Dolohov, this doesn’t concern you.”_

_The Russian growled and towered over Bellatrix, dark and menacing. But of course she didn’t bat an eye, merely smiled lasciviously and ran her tongue along the top row of yellowed teeth._

_“My my Antonin, this pathetic display of testosterone is almost enough to turn me on. If only you could get it up for anything other than disgusting animals. That little Mudblood bitch really has you wrapped around her finger, doesn’t she? Perhaps I will do you a favor and cut them all off, freeing you at last.”_

_Antonin made to lunge but a strong arm caught him around the middle, pulling him back._

_“Calm down, Antonin. She’s provoking you so the Dark Lord will punish you later,” Rabastan said to his friend, all the while glaring daggers at his sister in law. “She knows he’ll revoke your war prize. As long as you lay claim to the Mudblood she can’t be killed.”_

_Bella laughed, high and shrill. “Oh, why is every man in this room more pathetic than the last? My own flesh and blood cowering in the corner like a scared little girl, the big bad Russian falling to pieces over a filthy little beast, and my dear sweet brother in law, unable to cast a simple cruciatus without pissing his pants.”_

_Now it was Dolohov’s turn to hold Rabastan back._

_“You cunt! That was seventeen years ago! Watch me torture you now, I don’t even need my wand, I’ll strangle you with my bare fucking hands!”_

_She laughed harder, throwing her head back and allowing the piercing sound to bounce off the high ceiling and surround them in a cloak of insanity. Draco pulled his real cloak closer to his body but it did nothing to alleviate the cold._

_“Very well,” she said, turning off the maniacal laughter like a switch, “Since no one in this room is gentleman enough to retrieve my blade I’ll get it myself.”_

_She began to cross the room and Antonin followed, fists clenched at his sides to resist the urge to throttle._

_“What are you going to do with that blade?”_

_“I’m going to cut up some vegetables for a nice stew. What the fuck do you think I plan to do?”_

_“You heard the Dark Lord. He promised her to me. You can’t touch her-“_

_Bella spun around; uncontrolled magic flaring around her and making her long black curls crackle and spark._

_“What a selective memory you have, Dolohov. And you all claim I’m the damaged one! The Dark Lord promised what was left of the filthy whore to you when the war is finally won. He never forbade anyone from touching her until then. And he certainly would never forbade me my fun… especially when it can lead us one step closer to ending this.”_

_After Bella exited the room Antonin spun around and punched a hole into the wall, blood exploding across his knuckles as the skin tore. Draco cringed and shrank back further into his corner._

_“Calm down. She isn’t going to kill the mudblood. She’s too valuable an asset against the Order,” Rabastan said as he took his seat. “The more worked up you get the more Bella will torture you for it.”_

_“It’s not my torture I’m concerned with.”_

_“Don’t tell me you’re actually concerned for the mudblood?”_

_“Of course not. But she’s mine. I’m the one who gets to punish her, to break her. To make her scream and bleed and beg for mercy. By the time Bella is through working her over her mind will be so broken she’ll be no different than the Longbottoms. A limp lifeless doll separated from reality. She’ll be of no use to me.”_

_Draco closed his eyes, willing himself to become invisible. But he couldn’t block out their voices._

_“Even if Bella drives her insane I can still think of a few uses for her.”_

_“That’s not the point. She won't be aware of anything that happens. I want to look in her eyes as I break her, mind body and soul. I want to be the last thing she sees as she loses that last piece of hope, that list bit of will power.”_

_Rabastan let out a short laugh. “Fuck! You really do hate that little bitch. I always just assumed you wanted to fuck her ten ways to Sunday.”_

_The Russian grunted as he cast a healing spell on his hand, ignoring the large blood smeared crater in the wall._

_“Oh, I still plan on fucking her. But that’s not nearly enough for what she did to me. Humiliating me at the Ministry, surviving my curse, altering my memories. I’ll teach her the consequences for defying me, for turning a wand against me, for traipsing around in my fucking head! That vile little bitch thinks she’s my equal. I’ll teach her exactly what her place is… broken, bloody on her knees before me, begging for my mercy, begging for my cock, begging for anything I’m willing to give her because she has nothing left in the godforsaken world to cling to.”_

_The words were spoken with venom but Draco could see the lust and insanity in the man’s eyes. The Russian had been obsessed with Granger since the Department of Mysteries. No one had ever survived his purple flames, and yet a sixteen-year-old mudblood managed to overcome his dark magic. It was preposterous. He had to get his hands on her to redeem himself._

_After the Death Eaters who were arrested at the Ministry escaped a second time Lucius told Draco how the Russian spent his days pacing his cell, ranting and raving about all the things he planned to do to Potter’s Mudblood. It got be quite bothersome after a while. Lucius found the man’s obsession in poor taste._

_Every man was allowed his fetishes, however filthy they may be, but it was bad decorum to discuss them in mixed company. He told Draco he was allowed to plunder the spoils of their upcoming victory, encouraged even, but to not publicize his excursions with filth as Dolohov did._

_After that conversation Draco excused himself to his room and spent a solid twenty minutes emptying his stomach into the toilet._

_Then fucking Granger had to go and get herself caught._

_He wasn’t sure what he wished for her. Was it better to die by his aunt’s hand and be spared Dolohov, or to be tortured into insanity so she wasn’t aware of all the atrocities she was sure to experience? One thing was for certain; she would not be escaping this night unscathed._

_And as much as Draco despised the Mudblood who had the audacity to speak back to him as if they were equals, to receive higher marks as if that made her blood any less filthy, to fucking punch him in the face like a common muggle- Despite their long tumultuous history, he certainly would never wish his aunt or the Russian on her. No one, no matter how inferior, deserved that kind of terror and humiliation._

_Just then the evil witch came striding back into the room, dagger glinting from her hand and a silver grin on her face._

_“Time for some fun!”_

_“Bella, I swear-“_

_“Oh do calm down, Dolly. I promise to leave the best bits for you. I’ll just carve up her face; it shouldn’t make her any less attractive than she already is. You’ll still have plenty of holes to fuck. In fact, I’ll even make you some new holes. Don’t say I never did anything for you.”_

_Draco choked back the bile rising in his throat, accidentally drawing the attention of the others._

_“Oh, Draco, darling, I almost forgot you were standing there. You’ve been so quiet all night.” Her words dripped saccharine sweet, a dark omen for the evil to come._

_She slowly paced to where he stood cowering in the corner, praying for the shadows to swallow him whole. But he had no such luck, for in the next moment his aunt reached out her pale bony hand and caressed his cheek in a grotesque parody of motherly affection._

_“I have a splendid idea! Draco, you hate the Mudblood as well, don’t you?”_

_He paused; desperately searching his mind for a way out of what he knew was to come but drawing a blank._

_“Yes,” he relented, numb and emotionless._

_“If anyone has cause to see the little bitch bleed it’s you. After all she’s spent the last six years humiliating you by out performing you in every subject.”_

_He knew his aunt meant to provoke him but he was too dissociated from his mind to feel anything apart from the stiffness of his limbs and rapid beating of his heart._

_She must have interpreted his silence as affirmation, because she was suddenly pulling him from his corner and pushing him towards the drawing room._

_“Come along, Drakey! I promise you’re going to have a ball!”_

Draco gasped for air, dragging himself from the dark memory and forcing himself to remain in the present. It was a difficult task, the bloodstain beneath his feet threatening to pull him back in.

_“Please! It was a fake, we don’t know anything!”_

_“What a weak pathetic creature you are. I’ve barely gotten started. And I promise this is nothing compared to what Dolohov has planned for you. I’m doing you a favor by preparing you for your new life. I’m sure Greyback would love to help me. How about I let the beast fuck you for a few hours and give you a break from my blade, hmm?”_

“Enough,” Draco wheezed, voice ragged from the mental onslaught.

He forced himself to retreat the few steps back to the door and leaned against the frame to regain his bearings.

“Everything okay?”

Draco jumped, not hearing Potter’s approach.

“I’m fine.”

His words were clipped, a clear declaration to back off. Potter nodded, heeding the warning and looking away from Draco. The only downside was that Potter was now looking into the drawing room, his sharp emerald gaze affixed to the same dark stain on the floor Draco had been rooted to.

Draco wasn’t sure what was worse, the dangerous darkening of the man’s gaze or his absolute silence. Draco remembered a much more impulsive, vocal boy than the Auror who stood beside him now. He almost wished for the days when Potter would just say what he was fucking thinking so Draco could respond accordingly. The intensity of his stare and solemn silence left Draco feeling raw and defenseless.

_Just like Granger felt._

He ignored the dark whisper of his own voice in his mind. It sounded far too accusing for his liking. He couldn’t afford to slip into another torrent of memories with Potter flanking him.

“Did you finish inspecting the rooms?”

Potter blinked, breaking the trance he had fallen into and pulling his attention back to Draco.

“Of the downstairs. I was about to head up when I saw you standing here.”

The men stared at each other for several long beats. Draco swallowed and moved back from the doorway.

“I’ll take the East wing, if you want to start in the West.”

Potter nodded once before marching past him, a new purpose to his stride and set to his shoulders Draco didn’t notice before.

_His defenses are up. But not against this house, against me. Against a former Death Eater who watched his best friend getting tortured within an inch of her life. Against the coward that stood by and did nothing time and time again, leaving it up to him to save the fucking day, Great Savior that he is…_

Draco swallowed the thick emotion that overflowed from his chest to his throat, feeling the pressure behind his eyes and blinking against the stale air.

His self-loathing had decreased over the years but he long ago accepted it would never fade away entirely. No matter how much time separated him from his dark past he knew some degree of abhorrence would meet his reflection in the mirror.

But today it was in full force. It wasn’t just the memories the house stirred within him, it was that he was forced to relive the endless terror and shame with the Symbol of the Fucking Light at his side. Potter’s presence shined a spotlight on the mistakes of Draco’s past, making every step deeper into the Manor more crippling than the last.

As they reached the first landing Potter cast another Revelio, despite the fact the wards were still up and running. The ominous atmosphere must be making him paranoid as well.

Good. Draco took comfort in knowing Potter appreciated the danger that could be lurking in these walls no matter how hapless the interior seemed. Best to always have your defenses up. Draco clutched his wand tightly as he split from the Auror, taking the opposite set of stairs to the second level.

The upper levels of the Manor didn’t haunt Draco nearly as much. There were mostly bedrooms and parlors, the occasional room of collectables and rare oddities, most of which had been seized by the Ministry for suspicion of dark magic. His father’s penchant for cursed objects was well known throughout wizarding society.

Though his aunt and many of the other Death Eaters stayed in guest suites along this floor Draco rarely saw them as he spent the majority of his summer and holiday breaks holed up inside his room, only coming out when summoned by his Father or Master.

His Mother understood his need for sanctuary and never pulled him from it. Instead she took to sleeping in a bedroom adjacent to his. The wing also had a large sitting room where they’d often take their lunch and a library where they could sit and escape reality for a few blessed hours.

In the massive tangle that was the Manor’s endless hallways and rooms he found only this wing to be tolerable. It possessed the pleasant memories of his childhood and served as a makeshift sanctuary for him and his mother when they needed it most. Here he could breathe and escape the onslaught of memories so prevalent in the other parts of the house.

Walking into his bedroom brought a sense of nostalgia that almost brought a smile to his lips. Almost. The phantom smell of Granger’s blood still lingered in the air, traveling all the way from the drawing room below and stamping out any genuine pleasure or amusement Draco may have felt as he rummaged through his childhood belongings.

He ran his hand over the long handle of his Nimbus 2001 propped against the wall, long forgotten by a teeanger plagued by far darker tasks. Sighing deeply, he set the broom aside and swept his gaze along the room one final time before backing out and closing the door.

As he spun around his breath stopped short. A giant glowing stag stood before him, its head almost to Draco’s shoulder and its massive antlers branching several feet higher still. Recognizing the creature Draco exhaled in relief, and then scowled in annoyance as the beast spoke.

“Malfoy, meet me in the far back of the south west wing, I came across a magically sealed door. I’d rather you deactivate the locks than blast it open.”

Draco had stormed half way up the hall before fully processing Potter’s words. A magically sealed door? Draco pondered the rooms in the southwest wing as he continued his journey. Then he remembered.

Bella’s rooms.

A chill ran up his spine.

When the escaped Death Eaters finally arrived at the Manor, caked in filth and raving mad, his mother had inconspicuously assigned them rooms as far from her son as possible. She put her sister the furthest away. Narcissa tried to cover her true intentions by claiming the south west wing provided the most privacy for the married couple. Never mind that Bella cringed away from Rodolphus’s touch in the weeks following their escape.

The couple kept separate bedrooms throughout their stay at the Manor, even after she warmed up to his presence. He refused to ponder their sexual relationship, convinced he’d lose his stomach on his way to Potter and really make this evening something to remember.

When he entered the South west wing and saw Potter standing at the end of hall he felt a strong sense of deja vu, which made no sense since Potter never ventured to the second floor during his brief imprisonment, at least to Draco’s knowledge. And even if he had made it upstairs Draco had certainly never stood opposite this hall from the man.

Draco quickly shook himself of the odd feeling, as he did with all the other unwelcome feelings the home inspired, and made his way to the Auror’s side.

“Which door is it?”

Potter gestured to the wall.

“This one.”

Draco blinked.

“Which one?”

Potter raised a dark brow. “The one directly in front of you.”

Draco faced forward, staring at the empty wall.

“Potter, I think you’ve taken one too many Confundus charms to the head.”

“What are you talking about? Just open the door, Malfoy.”

“How the hell am I supposed to open a door that isn’t there?”

The look of anger on Potter’s face inspired similar feelings in Draco.

“Listen Malfoy, I don’t care what kind of illegal shit you have in the room. I don’t care if it’s a sex dungeon filled with stuffed animals and deli meat! I just need to see inside to mark it off my list so I can get the fuck out of here.”

Draco found himself blinking again, too dumbfounded to retaliate with a scathing remark.

“Stuffed animals and what?”

“Jesus fucking christ, Malfoy, if you don’t open the door I’m going to blast it down.”

“If you insist on blowing a hole through the fucking wall then have at it! Merlin knows I don’t have any sentimental attachment to the architecture. I only ask that you leave enough rubble behind for me to set aflame afterwards. But don’t go crying to the Minister that I curtailed the investigation by refusing to unlock a door that doesn’t fucking exist!”

In the stillness that followed Draco’s outburst he realized just how loud he’d been shouting. He quickly adjusted his shirt cuffs in an attempt to reign in his emotions. How dare Potter try to make him look like a fucking fool? In his own fucking home! What a sodding-

“Malfoy.” Potter said slowly, as if Draco wouldn’t recognize the sound of his own name. “Are you fucking with me?”

Draco scoffed and opened his mouth to unleash another round of hell when Potter held up his hands in a staying gesture. “Hang on, seriously, Malfoy, look here…”

Potter walked around Draco and laid his hand against the wall, solid and portraitless.

Odd. His mother was a very meticulous decorator, family portraits and tasteful art gracing every hallway in the massive home, evenly spaced along the tall walls. Though Draco had put some of the more surly portraits into storage and migrated the pleasant ones to his mother’s new residence he left the majority of hall art hanging. He didn’t recall removing a portrait from this wall, and more so the even tone of the wall paper suggested nothing ever hung upon it.

As if sensing Draco’s internal ponderings Potter continued, his tone still slow and even as if Draco would strike out at any slight provocation.

“Malfoy, tell me what you see.”

Draco didn’t understand what Potter was playing at and almost said as much, but the intensity of the man’s emerald gaze told Draco that perhaps this wasn’t a game at all. The implication made his heart rate increase.

“I see a wall, Potter.”

“Just a wall?”

Draco glared and crossed his arms, hoping to quell the rising panic in his gut.

“If I saw an elf riding a thestral over a rainbow I would say as much. I told you, all I see is a bloody wall!”

Potter nodded and dropped his hand, turning to look at said wall with a determination Draco couldn’t begin to understand.

“Well,” he said casually, raising his wand. “Stand back, Malfoy. Things are about to get interesting.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

**May 4, 2006**   
**Buckinghamshire, England**

Narcissa stared at her reflection in the large baroque mirror of her vanity. She ran her thin fingers over her waxen complexion.

The beauty glamors were becoming more difficult to maintain. She would need to start enlisting elf magic to sustain the charms for more than a few hours. The idea of relying on magic outside of her own for such simple tasks only further dampened her mood.

“Layla!”

A soft pop sounded behind her, followed by the rustling of fabric as the small creature curtseyed.

“Yes, Madam Malfoy?”

“Open the curtains. It feels like a mausoleum.”

“Of course, Madam.”

As light slowly filtered into the room Narcissa’s reflection became more prominent. Every wrinkle, gray hair and varicose vein on display. The bags under her eyes cast shadows across gaunt cheekbones. She sighed deeply and turned away from the mirror and all the potions and creams piled atop the vanity table.

“Layla.”

“Yes, Madam?”

“Come here.”

The creature abandoned the heavy velvet curtain and ran to her Mistress’s side.

“I need you to-” Narcissa felt a sudden pang behind her eyes, she squeezed them closed and rubbed at her temples, her breath coming in short pants.

“Is my Madam’s head making pain again? Here, Layla make it better…” The elf made a dash for the ornate nightstand and opened the top drawer, grabbing a small blue vial from the pile of potions within.

“Here, Madam, please drink dis. It make her head much better.”

Narcissa blindly held her hand out and as soon as she felt the cool glass against her palm she pulled out the stopper and drank down the liquid in a single long gulp. She grimaced at the bitter taste, though the pain in her head immediately started to ease. She felt her shoulders relax.

“Remind me to tell Severus to add more citrus to the pain potions, Layla. They taste repulsive.”

“Layla will remind Madam before she speak to Mister Snape dis morning.”

Narcissa’s eyes flew open. “Dammit.”

Layla let out a high pitch squeal and covered her large floppy ears with tiny hands. Narcissa sighed and stood from the velvet stool, retying her silk robe.

“My apologies, Layla. I didn’t mean to swear. I’d simply forgotten about my morning appointment with Severus. What time is he arriving?”

Layla slowly lowered her hands and peered up with large round orbs that shone brightly in the streaming sunlight. “Mister Snape be arriving at ten, Madam. No worry, Madam still have time to get ready.”

Narcissa pulled her wand from her robe pocket and cast a tempus. The light was dull from her weakened magical core but she could still make out the time.

“Blast it, Layla! I only have twenty minutes! And you know that Severus always arrives early. Why didn’t you warn me sooner?”

Layla walked over to the four poster bed and started to thump her head into the rod iron leg of the canopy, sobbing broken apologies all the while.

“Oh stop that! There’s no time. I need you to cast the glamors today. I don’t have the strength for anything stronger than a complexion charm and that wont do with Severus. I need a strong radiance booster. Though he’ll likely see through that as well. All the same, stop banging your head and come here.”

As Narcissa sat on the edge of her bed Layla reluctantly abandoned her self flagellation and came to stand before her Mistress, reaching out her hands and unleashing her special brand of elf magic.

* * *

Severus slowing paced the parlor of the large Malfoy country estate. Hands folded behind his back, posture ramrod straight and peering down his prominent nose at the priceless decor, he appeared supremely uncomfortable in the luxurious setting.

Which sent the elves into a frenzy.

“Is Mister Snape sure dare izzn’t anyting Hinky can get for him?”

Severus stopped his pacing and closed his eyes, deeply irritated. Seeing the sour expression on the wizard’s face only served to panic Hinky more. The tiny creature wringed his hands and anxiously shifted his weight from foot to foot.

The distinct click of heels on hardwood sounded from around the corner and Severus breathed a sigh of relief. The elf was getting on his last nerve. He knew the creature couldn’t help it’s servitude nature, but as someone who was fiercely self sufficient all his life Severus never learned to stomach the little beasts.

“Hinky,” came a familiar feminine voice from the entryway, “Let Severus be and bring us some tea and scones.”

The elf bowed so deeply the bulbous tip of his nose grazed the floor before popping out of existence and leaving the other two inhabitants of the room alone.

“There’s no need for libations, I’ve already had breakfast.”

Narcissa smiled as she crossed the large persian carpet. “Trust me, it’ll keep the elves out of our hair for a bit. I know how you detest their company.”

Severus rolled his eyes, relaxing his rigid stance a fraction in the familiar company of his long time friend and confidante.

“I don’t detest a creature for acting in its true nature.”

Narcissa laughed, pulling the tall man down a few inches so she could kiss his cheek in greeting. “Of course, you only detest those who act against it.” Her pale eyes held a knowing look that caused him to avert his gaze on instinct.

“Relax, Severus. It’s in poor taste to perform legilimency before noon. You’re safe in my company.”

Now it was his turn to laugh. “I can’t imagine any man being safe in your company, Narcissa.”

He meant it as a frivolous joke, a reference to her feminine wiles, but upon seeing the sting in her eyes he realized the double meaning of his words. Her expression quickly sobered, smoothing the wrinkleless robes that fell tastefully around her waist and hips as she regained her bearings.

“Narcissa, I didn’t mean-”

“Hush now, Severus. Of course you didn’t. You’re one of my dearest friends and I take no offense. Now sit and tell me everything that’s happening in your life.”

Narcissa sat upon a settee with supreme grace, the train of her perfectly tailored robes fanning around her in a picturesque fashion. Severus matched her sinuous movements, always a man of great refinement and agility despite his rough upbringing.

“I did not come to discuss myself, Narcissa. Of course you already know that.”

“Nonsense. You’re one of my few connections to wizarding society. I love to hear your updates. Tell me about your potions lab. Any new, scandalous customers? What ever happened with the woman who wanted to poison her husband?”

Severus sighed and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees in a complete lack of etiquette.

“I never told you about her, Narcissa. You know very well I never discuss any of my clients. One of your society hens undoubtedly spread the gossip, which is likely what led to said woman’s arrest last month.”

Narcissa’s face fell into a mask of intrigue and surprise. Severus wasn’t fooled for a moment, raising a dark brow and pinning her with his unrelenting black stare. She held onto the expression for a few more moments before dropping the act and smirking.

“I’m sure I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“I’m sure.”

“Well I can’t help that you’re terrible at relaying interesting news, Severus. It’s your fault I have to resort to the so called society hens you deplore so much.”

“I hardly qualify a gold digging housewife plotting her husband’s demise as interesting news.”

“Oh how hopeless you are. That’s the very definition of interesting.”

He sighed, a muscle ticking in his jaw. “We’ll have to agree to disagree, as is our usual recourse. Now do stop trying to avoid the subject. Distraction hardly suits you.”

Narcissa leaned back into the settee, folding her hands primly on her lap.

“Perhaps distraction isn’t my strong suit, but diversion is one of my better talents.”

No sooner had she finished speaking than three elves popped into the room, carrying large silver trays of steaming tea and aromatic baked goods. Narcissa smiled widely as Severus bit back a groan. The blasted elves, always showing up when least desirable.

After the creatures set up the food and drink Narcissa promptly shooed them away, despite their many attempts at serving Madam and Mister Snape themselves.

After the last elf popped out of the room, not before casting a long, worried look at her Mistress, Narcissa leaned forward and picked up the teapot. Her hand began to shake so badly she had to grasp her buckling wrist to steady her hold.

“Please, allow me.” Severus grabbed the teapot without awaiting a response. Narcissa sighed, relinquishing her grip and settling back in her seat.

“Wonderful. Well there’s no avoiding the subject now.”

“Whatever do you mean?” His smooth baritone paired with the sound of tea filling the china cups was most hypnotic.

“I know very well why you insisted on meeting me this morning, Severus. I thought I might pretend it to be a social visit but you obviously insist on cutting right to the point.”

She watched in frustration as Severus doctored her cup with just the right amount of milk and sugar before holding it out, ever the gentleman. She snatched it from his grasp and slammed the saucer onto the table, sloshing tea onto the exquisite finish.

“Enough! You don’t get to play teatime with me now, Severus. You’ve come to say something, so say it.”

It only served to frustrate her more when Severus didn’t bat an eye at her emotional outburst. He merely took to preparing his own cup with slow and methodical movements, ever the Potioneer.

“I didn’t come to upset you, Narcissa.”

“Then you shouldn’t have come here, Severus. You can’t seem to go more than a few minutes without making me want to hex you blind.”

He smirked and sipped calmly at his tea. “That’s simply our way, anything else would be ingenuine.”

She grabbed a cloth napkin, mopping up the mess she’d made and avoiding his watchful gaze.  
“Be that as it may, I am not in the mood to go rounds with you today. So either say your peace and leave, or finish your tea and leave. It makes no difference to me.”

She heard him sigh and set his saucer down but she refused to meet his dark eyes. They’d see right through her carefully crafted facade, as they always did. If he broke her down she hadn’t the strength to put the pieces back together.

“If my coming here as a friend is not appreciated, then I come in a professional capacity. I can no longer advocate for this course of treatment, Narcissa. If you can even call it that.”

She fought back a scoff, a lifetime of etiquette more ingrained than the weariness in her bones. He noticed her dismissal all the same.

“You continue to deteriorate, do you deny it?”

His words were sharp enough to finally draw her gaze. She knew her continued silence would only prompt him to continue and his words cracked open an old wound in her chest.

“Of course I’m continuing to deteriorate, Severus! I’m dying! That’s how dying works! I’ll get weaker and weaker every day until the last bit of life leaves my body!”

Her outburst brought a flush to her face and sweat to her temples but Severus appeared as calm and collected as ever, leaning back into his chair with casual nonchalance.

“You are choosing that fate, Narcissa. By forgoing your treatments at St. Mungo’s you are speeding the curse’s progression.”

“Honestly, Severus, must we go round and round about this yet again? Whatever course of treatment I undertake is my decision and my decision alone! I am done being poked and prodded by idiot healers and morbidly curious unspeakables who haven’t the faintest idea how to cure me, when the simple reality is there is no cure. I have accepted my fate, why can’t you?”

His jaw tensed. “I apologize. Rolling over and giving up is a new look for you. One I am decidedly not a fan of.”

“How dare you!” It took all her will power not to leap across the table and slap him. “Of all the people to accuse me of weakness, of _giving up!_ You know what my family has been through, what we continue to go through each and every day. Is it really so hard to fathom why I’m not eager to fight to stay apart of a world that has chewed me up and spat me out?”

“Bugger the world. It’s hard for me to fathom why you aren’t fighting to stay for your family, which is set to have a new member in only a few short weeks-”

“Don’t!” She choked on the word, tears rushing to her eyes and spilling over before she was able to blink them into submission.

Severus reached across and grasped her wrist, squeezing it gently.

“Narcissa,” he said lowly, the heat gone from his expression, “It is not my intention to cause you such dismay. But I can’t stand seeing you this way, diminishing by your own stubbornness.”

“It’s not stubbornness,” she whispered, emotion still thick in her throat, “It’s heartbreak.”

She met his black gaze, his face full of sympathy that cut her deeper than anything he could possibly say.

“I know that you miss him, but he will come home, Narcissa. His sentence is almost finished-”

“I’m not talking about Lucius.”

Snape released a deep breath through his nose. “Narcissa, you still have your son.”

“He hardly ever visits anymore-”

“His wife is about to give birth.”

“It’s not that. It’s the way he looks at me. He barely makes eye contact.”

“I imagine it’s painful for him to see you in such a state. You wear your glamours well, but they aren’t infallible.”

She closed her eyes, an image of Layla casting her beauty charms flashing through her mind.

“Look at me, Narcissa.”

When she refused to meet his gaze he squeezed her wrist once more.

“You are not meant for isolation. This home, though as grand and elegant as it’s inhabitant, is as much a prison as the one your husband resides in. There is no escape from your mental and physical anguish within these walls. It only expedites the progression of the curse. You need to return to-”

“I will not return to the Manor.”

“Not the Manor. Just society.”

Now she did scoff, propriety be damned. “Being a bit melodramatic, aren’t we?”

“Am I? When was the last time you stepped foot outside of this house?”

She averted her gaze and tensed, pulling her wrist from his grasp.

“I have no place to be. The elves take care of my shopping needs and I hardly have the strength for leisurely jaunts through the park.”

“When was the last time you visited Lucius?”

She shook her head. “You know that he told us to stop visiting, to spare us from the ridicule we faced every time we were spotted at the prison.”

“Yes, and I remember you disregarding his request and continuing your visits long after Draco stopped.”

“Draco had his reasons!” She snapped defensively, her instinct to protect her only child still as natural as breathing.

Snape wasn't phased by her outburst. “I know he did. And I think they were good reasons. But this isn’t about Draco. You continued to visit Lucius despite what anyone thought. You always valued family more than anything. You stopped visiting because you don’t want him to know you’ve discontinued your treatment.”

She folded her hands in her lap, studying her nails and blinking back tears. Snape forged ahead.

“I take it Draco doesn’t know either, then?”

Her studious avoidance was answer enough. He sighed and sat back, pushing aside the cooling tea to make room on the table for the vials he fished out of his pocket.

“You should tell him, Narcissa. He will find out eventually, better from you than another source.”

“Yes, well, Draco certainly has enough to worry about, I do not like to burden him.”

“I think he’d consider losing his mother a greater burden.”

She wiped away the wetness on her cheeks. “Enough of this talk. I will tell him in due time. But you must promise me-”

“You know I wont say anything.”

She nodded, turning her attention to the multi colored glass vials stacked before him. “I see you brought me a present.”

He glanced down and picked up a blue vial. “Yes, another week’s supply. Last time you said the calridium had no effect, I assume it’s because you’ve built up a tolerance to the aconite. It’s not intended for daily consumption so I substituted herbaria. It’s important you don’t take more than the daily dose or you’ll experience nausea.”

When he heard no reply he looked up and saw Narcissa staring blankly at the table.

“Narcissa?”

“Hm?”

“Did you hear me?”

“Of course, Severus. I always hear you. Don’t down all the vials at once or I’ll suffer adverse effects.”

“If you down all the vials at once you’ll suffer a rather graphic demise. If you’d like to preserve the rugs and save the elves hours of clean up I’m happy to recommend far less complicated methods of suicide.”

“Ha ha.”

He set down the vial and stared at her patiently, waiting for her to work through her twisting thoughts until he had her full attention.

“Severus?” She spoke eventually, her voice low and hesitant. He leaned in, sensing the importance of whatever she about to divulge.

“What you said earlier, about me always putting family first… it isn’t true.”

He rose a dark brow but didn’t speak, knowing she would continue in her own time.

“When I was young, I hated my father. I hated his cruelty. I hated my mother for her weakness. And I… I…” she swallowed, hands twisting together in her lap as she searched for the words.

“I loved my sisters. I loved them because they understood what I felt, because they felt it, too. Everything I suffered through they did as well. I could confide anything in them. Would do anything for them. But then Bella left and it was just me and Andy. And then one night, a night just like any other, Andy left me, too. Snuck out her window, disappeared into thin air until Cassius told my father he spotted her with the mud- with the muggleborn outside of town.”

Though Snape’s gaze was steady hers was unfocused, clearly lost somewhere between the past and present.

“I was hurt when she left. Not because she ran off with that boy. Not because she did so without even saying goodbye. I was hurt because she left me behind. They both did. In that house. With him.”

Her voice changed on the last words, becoming cold and dead and causing a knot to twist in his stomach.

“I would have given anything to disappear into the night. I understood why Andy did it. I always understood but I hated her for it anyway. Because it was easier to hate her in peace than to love her in hell.”

She closed her eyes and a tear fell though it seemed to escape her notice. “I turned my back on Andy because I was scared to stand up to my father. I let go of someone I loved to appease someone I hated. I failed her. And then I failed Bella.”

Severus blinked, taken aback by her last words. “How did you fail Bellatrix?”

She opened her eyes, bloodshot and swollen even through the glamour.

“I put her in His path.”

He didn’t need to ask for clarification. “Narcissa, He would have found her eventually, with or without your intervention.”

She shook her head and leaned toward him. “No. Back then it was still a boys club. Rodolphus and my father refused to set up an introduction. She complained to me about it and I asked Lucius. He said her being Marked was my wedding present. Had I not intervened she would’ve never-”

“Yes she would, Narcissa. She always got what she wanted. She used you. Played upon your sympathies. I would place a million galleons on her being the one who recommended you appeal to Lucius on her behalf.”

“No, I… I…” Narcissa desperately searched her memory but had trouble recalling the exact conversation, only her sister’s tears and vengeful screams of how unfair it was. Bella threw something at the wall, it shattered into pieces and she cursed the elf that attempted to clean it up. But even that memory was hazy.

“Irregardless.” Snape’s voice pulled her back to the present. “The bottom line is she wanted an introduction and she got one. It doesn’t matter who set it up. If it wasn’t you and Lucius she would have certainly wore Rodolphus down until he obliged. Either way, every sin she committed for her Master does not fall back on you.”

“I know. I just… sometimes I wonder what things would be like if I had never gone to Lucius. If she had never taken the Mark. If Lucius had never taken the Mark. If Draco…”

She trailed off and the silence that followed was deafening. Severus couldn’t find the words to appease her because there were none. A familiar weight settled upon his shoulders, a heavy cloak of darkness weighing him down. A past filled with sorrow.

Narcissa swallowed and forged ahead. “I have many regrets, but the ones that pain me the most are the multitude of ways in which I failed my family because I did not put them first. I valued power and reputation and the people I loved most suffered the greatest.”

Severus nodded. “I am quite familiar with that feeling.”

She met his haunted gaze, knowing it mirrored her own.

“Severus… while we’re on the subject of family…”

She knew he understood what she alluded to when his gaze hardened.

“There is nothing to speak of.”

“You’ve been saying that for years. Surely by now-”

“There is nothing.”

“How can that be?”

“I’ve told you all I know, Narcissa. You’re the only other person who knows every detail. I am not hiding anything from you.”

“I believe you. I just can’t wrap my head around it. If he really went back, why are things still as they are?”

“Perhaps they aren’t, if the timeline was altered we wouldn’t notice a difference.”

“But surely his objective was to change the fate of the second war?”

“I can only speculate, Narcissa, and that is a pointless endeavour as it changes nothing about our current circumstances.”

She gave him a pained look she knew would help sway him. “I know you deal in facts and practicality, but please answer me just one question.”

He sighed deeply, leaning back in the chair and folding his arms over his chest. “I already know what you’re going to ask.”

Narcissa spoke the words aloud anyway, if only to release the heavy weight pressing upon her chest.

“Could she still be alive? Could she be out there somewhere?”

He held her gaze for a long while, the silence stretching between them until she was convinced he wouldn’t answer.

“Anything is possible,” he said finally, pausing as though the next words weighed just as heavily upon him. “But in all likelihood, no.”

Narcissa put a hand to her chest, conflicted and shamed by the immediate feelings of relief brought upon by his words. Guilt was quick to follow.

“Yet another family member I’ve let down.”

Severus watched as she squeezed her eyes close, idly twisting the cloth napkin into a rope.

“I was supposed to be in the nursery that night, looking over her. But I couldn’t bear the thought of Draco being hurt. I left her with the elf. I didn’t think… I wasn’t thinking of her, only of my son.”

“Rodolphus would have taken her no matter who was there. Surely you know he was planning to abscond with her long before that night.”

Narcissa nodded. She suspected as much but never had the nerve to ask questions, knowing what a tense subject the pregnancy was among the higher ranks of the Death Eaters, especially between her sister and brother in law.

“And you’ve checked with Euphemia?”

“Many times over the years. She claims no one has ever graced her door to fulfill the contract. I’ve verified her claim personally. She holds up under veritaserum and legilimency. And she shows no sign of memory alteration.”

“Perhaps Rodolphus has taken on a new identity and is raising her in the muggle world?”

“That is the most likely scenario if they are still alive. However Rodolphus has never shown up on a magical trace, even once. That would be quite the accomplishment for a proud pureblood with absolutely no resources in the muggle world. Beyond that, years ago when the Ministry reverse engineered the Mark to trace those who escaped there was no sign of him.”

“I thought they found a way to block the tracking.”

“Eventually they did, but only after they realised how the Aurors were finding them. Initially the Ministry had a count of how many Marks remained, minus those captured, and correlated civilian sightings and trace reports. They created a list of those assumed to still be alive and issued bounties. Rodolphus wasn’t on the list.”

“Even if he is dead, that doesn’t mean she is, too.”

“I performed the familial trace before your own eyes, Narcissa. In this very room, using the blood sample you provided. You saw the results. The only lines to appear on the scroll linked you to Draco, Lucius, and your sister. If your niece was alive she would have appeared as well.”

Narcissa briefly closed her eyes before nodding. “I just … had to ask. I needed to be sure. I don’t want to let anyone else down… before I go.”

Severus seemed taken aback by her bluntness, but she continued before he could for respond.

“I am ashamed to admit, because a child should never be held accountable for the sins of their father, but... I am relieved she’s gone.”

Tears formed in her eyes but this time they didn’t spill over. “I would never abandon my own flesh and blood, not again, not at this point in my life, but now I don’t have to worry about what she’ll grow up to become and whether my son and grandchildren will be safe living in the same world as the Dark Lord’s child.”

Severus held her gaze. “I understand.”

“You may be the only one who could. Merlin knows I can’t talk about it to anyone else. Which is strange. I thought after He died the Vow would be broken.”

“He insured it would remain in effect for the remainder of our lifetimes.”

“And the Ministry never found anything suspicious in the memories of those they arrested?”

“I performed the memory spells myself. You saw how effective it was on Draco.”

She began to smooth the rumpled napkin over her knee. “He doesn’t seem to recall anything about his younger cousin. At least not that he’s ever told me.”

“It was for the best,” he said, watching her smooth out the creases in the fabric with a fingertip. “The Ministry would have put him in an untenable position if they uncovered anything during his investigation.”

“Thank you for protecting him, Severus. As you’ve always done.”

“It was nothing.”

“He could have dropped dead during the interrogation! I don’t know where we’d be if you hadn’t stepped in when you did.”

Snape appeared deeply uncomfortable with the praise and shifted in his chair, averting his gaze.

“Yes, well, perhaps you can thank me by coming to my potions lab to pick up your next round of vials.”

She felt her first genuine smile of the day spread across her face beyond her control. “You never give up, Severus.”

“You wouldn’t be the first to say so.”

A soft pop sounded near the doorway and they both jolted at the sudden interruption.

“Layla is sorry to interrupt, Madam, but a letter came from Master Draco and Madam said to always bring her Master Draco’s letters right away.”

Narcissa held out her hand. “Yes, Layla, hand it to me.”

The creature practically skipped to her Mistress’s side, causing Snape’s expression to sour in such a way that Narcissa had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep from laughing.

“I think the mood could use a little lightening, don’t you? Draco’s letters always make the day a bit brighter.”

“Yes Madam.” Layla curtsied and backed away, watching as her Mistress broke the wax seal and unfolded the single parchment within.

Severus cast a warming spell on the now mostly forgotten tea as Narcissa’s eyes tracked back and forth across the words scrawled in his Godson’s neat hand. He watched over the rim of his cup as her expression shifted from an expectant joy to obvious alarm.

“What is it?”

She continued reading a moment longer before meeting his gaze, grey eyes full of fear as she held out the parchment in a trembling hand.

She swallowed heavily before uttering one word that effectively sent ice down his spine.

“Trouble.”


	12. Chapter Twelve

**May 4, 2006**   
**Gringotts Bank**

Hermione ascended the stairs as quickly as she could in high heels and a pencil skirt. She made a presentation to the Magical Forestry Association that morning and wanted to look her best. She had so much on her plate now that she was actively transitioning roles at the Ministry she had to schedule this meeting over her lunch break.

A man left the bank as she approached, holding open the door. She smiled and thanked him, unaware that he stared blatantly at her ass as she entered. She quickly scanned the lobby and spotted the shock of white blonde hair almost immediately. Draco was already staring at her, a look of supreme annoyance on his face. Her guard immediately went up.

“What? I’m not late!” She said as she approached.

He moved away from the wall he was leaning against. “I didn’t say you were.”

“You look upset.”

His gaze cut past her to the door. “I’m not upset with you.”

She looked behind her, not seeing what caught his eye.

“Oh. Okay… Well, are you ready?”

He put his hands in his trouser pockets. It was then she took in his muggle business suit.

“My, don’t you look dapper.”

He shook his head and rolled his eyes before turning away and walking towards the goblin offices. She smiled triumphantly.

If someone asked Hermione to pinpoint the moment when she realized poking fun at Draco was a spectacular past time she would be hard pressed to find it. However she estimated it was around the time two years ago when he dropped papers by her office.

_“Granger.” He announced unceremoniously upon entering. “Theo needs you to sign these.” He threw a folder onto her desk atop the stack of parchment she was reading._

_“Hello, Draco. I must have missed your knock.”_

_“I’m sorry, is my being your personal carrier owl getting in the way of your busy day, Granger?”_

_She opened the folder and peered at the documents inside. “Why are you hand delivering these anyway?”_

_“Theo cancelled our lunch plans,” he said as he casually inspected the random items piled upon her shelves, making her feel inexplicably self conscious. “Or rather, he forgot to cancel our lunch plans. And in case I didn’t waste enough time coming out here he thought I’d like to waste a few more minutes bringing these to your office on my way out.”_

_“How thoughtful.”_

_“Yes, Theo’s always been known as the most emotionally sensitive of my friends.”_

_She couldn’t help but laugh. In the years she’d gotten to know Theo working at the Ministry together, those two words couldn’t be lower on her list of words to describe the up and coming attorney. He was known for his sharp mind and sharper tongue, making wizards twice his age stutter in fear when they faced against him in court._

_“Well, thank you. And don’t take offense, Theo’s been buried under work for the new hunting law reform my department is arguing before the Wizengamot next month.”_

_“Ah, so you are to blame for my current predicament.”_

_She looked up from the paragraph she was skimming. “Predicament?”_

_“Yes,” he spoke slowly as though she was an idiot. “Having my lunch plans cancelled and being trapped in an office with a woman whose hearing is impaired by ten meters of hair. Tell me, Granger, when that mess isn’t piled on top of your head are you completely deaf or can you actually hear the static it generates?”_

_She scowled. His off hand insults were nothing new and certainly lacked the venom they held from their school days, but Hermione was under the impression they were past such low blows now that they had been working together in a professional capacity off and on over the last few years._

_She was about to tell him to leave her office when she noticed the smirk playing at the corner of his mouth. She hesitated. Was Draco Malfoy actually teasing her? She tilted her head and swept her eyes over his form, head to foot and back up again. She noticed him straighten to his full height under her scrutiny._

_“I consider the static more of a white noise at this point. Tell me, Draco, when you receive mail do you need a letter opener or can you use your pointed face?”_

_Draco blinked. She saw the muscle in his jaw tick, she wondered if he was suppressing a grimace or a laugh. “Neither, Granger, I use a letter opening charm like a real wizard. But I’m not surprised you don’t recognize one when you see it, considering the company you like to keep.”_

_She raised a brow. “What, nothing about being a muggle born? Not being able to perform basic spells without syphoning magic from powerful purebloods such as yourself?”_

_“Too easy. I like to think outside the box, Granger. You might give it a try sometime.”_

_They stared at each other for several beats before she lost her ability to suppress a smile. His smirk reappeared at the same time. She shook her head and returned her focus to the papers on her desk._

_“Get out of my office Draco Malfoy, you’ve distracted me from my work long enough.” She tried to sound stern though her voice held no animosity. She heard his footsteps approach her desk._

_“I don’t think so. As I said, you are responsible for my afternoon falling to shite. So you’re going to make it up to me.”_

_She rolled her eyes. “And how am I supposed to do that?”_

_“By coming to lunch, obviously.”_

_Her head snapped up. “Are you asking me to lunch?”_

_“Don’t look so shocked. You do eat food each day, don’t you? At the very least I know your hair has to feed on a regular basis.”_

_“Very funny. You could only shock me by acting like a gentleman.”_

_“No fear in that, Granger. I’m even going to make you pay. Now grab your coat, I’m starving.”_

Hermione laughed softly, the memory taking her off guard but amusing her all the same. Draco glanced her way. “I’m afraid to ask.”

She smiled. “I wouldn’t tell you anyway.”

“Ah, Mr. Malfoy and Mrs. Granger-Weasley. You’re late.”

Draco pushed back his jacket sleeve and glanced at his Girard-Perregaux. “We’re five minutes early.”

“Which means you’re five minutes late!”

Hermione stepped forward, cutting short his argument with the goblin standing before them.

“Griphook! It’s so good to see you!” She beamed, ignoring the sound of Draco mumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like ‘brown noser’. She casually jerked her elbow into his side as she stepped around him, feeling quite satisfied by his grunt of pain.

“Mrs. Granger-Weasley, always a pleasure.” His monotone hinted at supreme boredom but she could detect a subtle softening of his posture as he regarded her more closely. A few summers ago they partnered to promote creature wand rights before various legislative groups. He was just as passionate about wandlore as when he first discussed the topic with her and her friends nearly a decade ago. He proved a formidable ally to further the cause.

“It’s been a while, I’d love to meet sometime to discuss-”

“Sorry to interrupt,” Draco said, not sounding the least bit sorry, “But I only have an hour before I’m needed back at the office, could we possibly continue the small talk as we make our way to the vault?”

Hermione sighed, ruffled by his abrupt, bordering on rude tone. She had gotten more used to his hot and cold attitudes when it came to their private business dealings but didn’t see him interact with the public enough to anticipate his behavior here. However their goblin guide didn’t seem the least bit offended, likely used to the casual dismissal of humans which only served to aggravate her further.

“Certainly, this way.” Griphook began leading them across the lobby to a door near the banker offices. “We’ll be using the employee entrance to the vaults as this is a Ministry sanctioned inspection.”

Hermione took a deep breath, reminding herself this was the first investigation on her first assignment for her new job. She unconsciously straightened and squared her shoulders earning an amused look from the blonde walking beside her.

“I take it Mr. Malfoy has briefed you on the circumstances surrounding the Black vault?”

“Yes, I understand he no longer has access to the property within. But I’d like to hear your perspective as well, Griphook, especially since I’ve never personally dealt with magical inheritance laws.”

She made a mental note to check in with Theo about the topic should she needed further clarification.

“I can only speak to inheritance laws from a banking standpoint, of course, but I imagine I know as much as Mr. Malfoy in regards to this case.”

He led them down a narrow corridor to a row of lifts, boarding one near the center and shutting the gate behind them before turning to address Hermione directly.

“Hold on, Mrs. Granger-Weasley.”

She quickly grasped the nearest handrail as the compartment lurched in a dead drop, causing her heels to lose contact with the floor as she levitated a full six inches off the ground. Her stomach hovered somewhere near her ears.

“Thanks for warning me as well.” Draco could barely be heard over the whistling of their rapid descent. Despite his ire she saw he had a firm grasp on the railing as well. Pieces of blonde hair that evaded his styling charms stood on end and Hermione cringed to think of what her hair would look like when they finally exited the lift. She already felt her bun loosening.

As soon as they jerked to an abrupt halt a loud clicking mechanism began overhead causing Hermione to glance up, unconsciously relaxing her death grip on the railing. Suddenly they surged to the right and Hermione lost her handhold completely, flying bodily towards the opposite wall face first.

She closed her eyes on instinct, no time to brace for impact. Suddenly she felt a hard weight against her stomach and a soft warmth at her back. She cracked open one eye to see the wall of the lift mere centimeters from her face. She peered down and saw an arm around her middle, blushing fiercely when she realized Draco must have caught her before she broke her fall with her nose.

She peered over her shoulder, her forehead grazing his chin and causing the blush to burn hotter. His expression was the definition of annoyed but his grey eyes reflected a humor she was starting to recognize, usually because it came at her expense.

“Th- thanks, Draco.”

He surprised her by smirking but otherwise staying silent until they came to another halt. She forced herself to break eye contact and face forward, suddenly realizing she still hadn’t grabbed the railing.

_Get a grip, Hermione. Literally._

She rolled her eyes at her own stupidity and attempted to move back to her side of the lift. But she couldn’t budge an inch, his arm remaining an iron band at her waist.

_Well this isn’t awkward. At all._

She opened her mouth to say… something, but before she could get a word out he pulled her tighter against his body, which she didn’t think was possible until she felt his knees bumping the back of her thighs and his sharp intake of breath pushing against her upper back. His exhale blew the wisps of hair around her forehead and created a path of gooseflesh starting from her neck down. She blinked, the warring senations alightling across her nerves robbing her of basic motor skills.

“Careful, Granger, we’re about to take off again. I obviously can’t trust you not to bust your head open and we don’t have time for a field trip to Mungo’s. Stand still.”

“Stand st- !” They flew to the left, the sudden movement causing her to grasp the forearm braced across her middle. It also caused her to squeal in a most undignified manner, a sound she immediately knew would haunt her for years to come if Malfoy’s unrestrained laughter was any indication.

“Oh shut up, Malfoy!” She hissed over her shoulder even as she clung to him for dear life.

It was a small mercy the ride ended as abruptly as it began. Griphook shook his head at them before opening the gate and stepping into the torch lit corridor beyond. Draco released her so quickly she wondered if she only imagined his arm ever wrapping around her. The last thirty seconds were perhaps some of the most bizarre she’d ever experienced, which for Hermione Jean Granger was quite a feat in itself.

“So…” She began shakily, avoiding looking in Draco’s direction, “Griphook, you were about to tell me what you know about the vault.”

She was grateful the goblin seemed oblivious to her discomfort and provided her an easy distraction just by speaking.

“For the better part of the 20th century the Black Vault was controlled by the Black family patriarch,” he began, his normally high pitched voice resonating deeper as it bounced off the stone walls. “Which as the title suggests was only passed through the male heirs. Cygnus took control of the family and vault upon his father’s death in 1990. His first act was to disband the link between the vault and family title. Legally the title must stay among the male line, due to ancient blood rites that cannot be changed, but there was a long history of witches inheriting family property. Gringotts issued a new inheritance decree upon his request, my predecessor oversaw the signing.”

Hermione nodded. “I imagine Cygnus wanted to change the inheritance decree to allow the vault to stay under his immediate family’s ownership?”

“I can only speculate as to his motivations but yes, that would be the most logical assumption. There were no male heirs in his immediate or secondary bloodline who could inherit ownership.”

“Because Sirius Black was serving a life sentence in Azkaban?”

“The younger Mr. Black’s imprisonment would not have prevented him from inheriting. Rather it was his family’s legal disownership.”

“Prisoners can inherit property? I thought the Ministry took ownership of their possessions?”

“In certain cases, yes. However the legal ownership of the vault still belongs to the individual, even if they’ve lost controlling rights. Legal ownership only passes to the Ministry when the primary on the vault dies with no legal heir.”

Hermione was surprised by this and looked to Draco for confirmation. He was facing forward, avoiding her gaze and she realized this was probably a sensitive topic given Lucius’s imprisonment and the temporary seizure of wealth the Malfoy’s experienced following the war.

“So who became the rightful owner of the Black fortune upon Cygnus’s death?”

“In 1992 all Black property and possessions passed to Bellatrix Black. Her imprisonment allowed the Ministry temporary controlling interest, but the blood wards on the vault made it impossible for any employees to access the contents.”

“Curse breakers couldn’t gain entry?”

“I imagine they could have, but the powers that be in the Ministry at the time weren’t as concerned with breaking into the Black vault as they were with managing the fallout from the first war. Having physical control of the vault was satisfactory enough as it prevented any opposing forces from tapping into the Black resources.”

Hermione tilted her head in thought. “I take it Narcissa Malfoy inherited the vault after her sister’s demise?”

She noticed Draco straighten, shoulders back, at the sound of his mother’s name. She knew he was very sensitive regarding the topic of his parents, she was careful to never bring them up unless absolutely necessary.

“Yes,” Griphook continued, once more oblivious to the tension among his guests. “Mrs. Malfoy came to Gringotts in July of 1998 and was able to access the vault without issue.”

“And then Draco took controlling interest?”

“I’m standing right here, Granger.”

She rolled her eyes.

“Mr. Malfoy took over as primary in 2004 due his agency over his mother’s legal interests. He was able to access the vault without her presence and received the monthly interest accrual notices. Then yesterday morning I detected an anomaly on the vault’s auto-generated audit reports. I notified Mr. Malfoy immediately.”

They turned a corner and continued walking past dozens of massive vault doors, shimmering behind the protective shields of their wards- and likely a few curses. “What type of anomaly?”

“The blood wards restructured, something that only happens when a new owner is legally or magically assigned.”

“Magically assigned?”

“Yes, the wards can be altered by magical signatures without the bank’s interference, usually when a primary owner is born or dies.”

“Do the audit reports specify the new owner?”

“Not when the wards are reassigned magically. The bank assigns a name to the vault once the contents are accessed. Narcissa wasn’t listed as the new primary in our records until she opened the vault.”

They stopped before a massive metal door carved with elaborate ruins. Griphook waved his hand over a set of symbols which glowed a soft white before a large scraping sound filled the air. It slowly opened to reveal a narrow hallway leading to another massive door, this one looking like a slab of obsidian with similar ruins carved into the surface. It was beautiful, and strangely ominous. Hermione felt the hairs on the back of neck stand up the longer she stared.

“The first door is accessible only to banking employees with level five clearance, this door can only be opened by the primary vault owner.”

She was mesmerized the way the torchlight danced across the reflective surface, reminding her of the rippling water of the black lake. She unconsciously moved closer, reaching out a hand to touch the intricate symbols.

When she was just a fingertip’s breath away from making contact a large hand caught her wrist.

“Not your best idea.”

She snapped out of her daze, jerking back from the door and Draco’s grasp.

“I… it’s just so… intriguing.”

A blonde brow rose. “That’s one word for it. Lethal is another.”

She blinked. “What do you mean?”

Griphook cleared his throat behind her. “I believe Mr. Malfoy is referring to the protection spells woven into the wards. They are engineered to dissuade would be thieves.”

She looked at the door again, the shimmering stone suddenly not as appealing.

“Dissuade how?”

Draco put his hands in his trouser pockets, giving a nonchalant once over to the item in question.

“Oh you know, a bit of disembowelment, dismemberment, all the classics.”

She stepped back. “Are you serious?”

“I can assure you the lethal enchantments have been bound!” Griphook assured her while glancing disapprovingly at the tall wizard.

Draco was smirking at Hermione, obviously all too pleased with himself. She shook her head. “But the vault is cursed?”

“Everything in my family is cursed, Granger, one way or another.”

She wasn’t sure how to respond to that and instead addressed the goblin at her side.

“Are there adverse effects on anyone besides the owner attempting to open the vault?”

“No, the curses have been neutralized while the vault is on bank property.”

She breathed a sigh of relief, having had enough interaction with dark curses to last her a lifetime.

“Okay, Draco,” she turned to face him once more, noting his look of supreme disinterest in the massive vault before him, “Would you show me how you’d normally open it?”

“There’s not much to it, Granger. I just had to touch these ruins here.” His hand hovered over a set of symbols she vaguely recognized though they seemed to predate the modern ruin language she was most familiar with.

“And now nothing happens?”

He pressed his flesh into the door without warning and her breath caught. She instinctively drew her wand, braced for trouble, but nothing happened. After a few beats of silence he lowered his arm and she relaxed her stance.

“Anticlimactic considering your usual bank adventures. Maybe we’ll stumble upon a dragon on our way back.”

* * *

They didn’t stumble upon any dragons. And Hermione didn’t stumble on top of Draco in the lift, thanks to her death grip on the railing. She was never going to be able to ride an elevator again without remembering his arm around-

“Earth to Granger, come in Granger.”

“Bloody hell I can hear you, Malfoy!” she scowled over her shoulder.

His smile absolutely infuriated her. “Pardon my mistake, you seemed lost in that big brain of yours.”

“Only you could make intelligence sound insulting.”

“Thank you.”

She groaned and shook her head. “Honestly, you’re worse than my nephews.”

“Please Granger, you’re making me blush.”

Now she smiled, albeit reluctantly. They had just parted ways with Griphook and were heading back to the lobby. She had a folder full of audit reports and legal documents she was excited to pour through back at her office.

“Do you have a busy afternoon?” she asked, remembering his mention of a meeting he didn’t want to be late for.

“Just tap dancing for arsehole investors who have more money than they know what to do with.”

She laughed. “Well I can’t see how they won’t be swept off their feet with that attitude.”

“Considering you were quite literally swept off your feet and into my arms not an hour ago I take that as a compliment of the highest order.”

She attempted to laugh it off but her voice sounded a touch too high and the raging blush was unavoidable. She was more embarrassed for the fact she knew he was trying to get a rise out of her and if his smug smirk was anything to go by he knew he’d succeeded.

She was desperate to change the subject but her mind was drawing a blank. To her relief and surprise Draco offered the out.

“So, how did the doctor’s appointment go?”

It took her overactive mind a moment to process his question. When she realized he was yet again asking a question pertaining to her personal life she was taken aback. Maybe they really were turning a new leaf.

“It went great. That is to say the healers couldn’t find anything we should be worried about.”

He nodded, slowing down as they entered the lobby. She eased her pace to match his, feeling inexplicably awkward now that they were about to part ways.

“I’m sure you were relieved to hear that. Are you going to continue the monthly visits?”

“Yes, just to play it safe. Once she turns a year old we’ll decrease to bi-annual visits, unless another rash appears. But hopefully we’ll be able to put it behind us entirely before she’s old enough to remember anything.”

She had been looking anywhere but his face as she spoke but now she glanced up and felt her heart beat painfully against her chest. Draco was staring at her with an intensity that made her acutely aware of her messy bun and the perspiration collected at her hairline and nape.

“I need to ask you something, Granger.”

The tone of his voice suggested this was going to be a doozy of a question. She glanced at the large glass and iron doors of the bank and watched as strangers poured in and out, walking past them in all directions.

One out of every few faces would glance their way, a look of recognition flashing in their eyes. Expression ranged from excitement (Is that Hermione Granger?) to disgust (Watch out, Malfoy is here...) to curiosity (What’s she doing talking to a Death Eater?) and a few people even looked like they were gathering the courage to come and speak to her, whether to ask for an autograph or photo or simply to make small talk she wasn’t sure, but it was a rare treat when she could wander around Wizarding society without attracting at least one adoring fan.

It drove her nuts. Even more so now that she was with Draco, really illuminating the disparity in public opinion they inspired. She also suspected many casual passersbys were trying to eavesdrop on their conversation, some more obvious than others.

“Erm…” she met his serious gaze once more, “Of course, but do you want to move to the side for some privacy?”

She didn’t think twice about the familiarity her question suggested, having already been escorted to a private alcove by him not a full day ago. However he didn’t seem the least bit phased and nodded shortly, leading the way to one side of the opulent lobby, coming to a stop between two large potted wiggentrees. She ducked out of the way of a few stray branches which of course were at risk for being caught in _her_ hair, no matter the fact Draco stood at least a head taller.

She watched as he drew his wand from his suit jacket’s inner compartment and lowered it to his side, casually flicking it and encasing them in a silencing charm. Despite the subtle gesture she glanced over her shoulder and saw a few nosy customers flinch back at the sight of Draco casting, paranoid he’d go on a murderous rampage in broad daylight.

_Idiot fools, try minding your own business and you won’t have cause for alarm._

“Everything okay, Granger?”

She spun around to face him. “Huh? Me? Of course. Why do you ask?”

“Because you’re expression exudes… what do they call it? Oh yes, Granger Danger.”

The scowl that lingered on her face was erased with an exaggerated roll of her eyes.

“Merlin’s beard, not you, too.”

“I would love to know who started the nickname so I can personally shake their hand and buy them a yacht.”

“Is this really a road you want to walk down, having a surname as easily rhymable as yours?”

She saw a quick flash of humor in his eyes before it was tapped down.

“As enjoyable as listening to you attempt def poetry would undoubtedly be, I unfortunately do need to leave for my meeting with the asshat investors.”

“It does sound serious if they’ve evolved from holes to hats. You should change into your tap shoes here, save yourself some time.”

He had a harder time suppressing his amused expression and finally relented with a smile, shaking his head and rubbing at the bridge of his nose. “Circe, Granger, I never thought I’d live to see the day you managed to be funny.”

She smiled at the backhanded compliment, feeling strangely elated she was able to amuse one of the most sardonic people she knew.

“What did you want to ask me, Draco?”

The humor bled from his eyes rapidly and was overtaken by the same serious intensity from before. Even though she was expecting it it she still felt her shoulders go tense.

“Yes, I…” she watched in mezmorized silence as Draco searched his mind for the words, his gaze lowering and tracking back and forth as though reading an invisible book.

His obvious reluctance and discomfort affected her on a physical level. She reached out and grasped his arm as though she were comforting Harry or Neville, and instinctual reaction that didn’t register in her mind until Draco looked down where her hand met his jacket. She stared at the contact as well, wondering if he was offended by her touch.

_He literally held you upright so you wouldn’t face plant into the side of the lift…_

She shook her head to avoid reliving the memory for the fortieth time in as many minutes. She looked up to see Draco was already staring back at her.

“I have a question that is a bit… personal.” His voice lowered on the last word and she instinctively leaned closer.

“Oh. I mean, yeah, go ahead.”

Her heartbeat thrummed loudly in her ears. She slowly removed her hand from his arm, her palm still tingling and surprisingly warm from the prolonged contact. For some reason she imagined Draco as being cool to the touch, perhaps it was his general icy disposition. But she had felt great heat radiating through his jacket.

“Yesterday you told me how… difficult it was for you to fall pregnant,” he paused to look her in the eyes, clearly gauging her reaction to the subject matter. She blinked once but otherwise stood still, neutral expression frozen to put him at ease. Inside it felt like a tornado was unleashed in her chest, ripping through muscle and arteries in an attempt to uproot her heart from her ribcage.

“I wasn’t sure… I wanted to ask if, due to the difficulty of… what I mean is-”

“Draco.”

His focus snapped back to her, swallowing heavily.

“Whatever it is, just ask. I promise this will be the least stressful part of your day.” She gave a small smile, hoping he’s recognize his own words. He nodded once and the tension in his shoulders seemed to ease, causing him to lean in to her a fraction.

“Were you afraid to celebrate or acknowledge your pregnancy before your daughter was born?”

Hermione blinked. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting but… that certainly wasn't it.

“Um…”

“Nevermind,” he said quickly, taking a full step back and averting his gaze, “I’m sorry, that wasn’t… I shouldn’t have asked you about… just forget it, please.”

“No, wait! Draco stop!” She reached out once more and grabbed his arm, stopping his retreat and making the moment somehow more awkward.

_In for a knut, in for a galleon…_

“Don’t be sorry, the question doesn’t offend me. It just took me a bit off guard, but not in a bad way. Just give me a moment to answer you, please.”

This seemed to settle him down, he stopped trying to pull away and stood still, though he still avoided meeting her eyes. Maybe that was for the best, talking about these things would probably be easier if she wasn’t pinned beneath his intense stare.

“I was terrified of celebrating my pregnancy. I refused to let Gin throw me a baby shower.”

His eyes suddenly snapped to her, widening a fraction before he schooled his expression.

“May I ask… why you want to know?” she bit her lip, noticing that his hawk like gaze tracked the movement before looking back up.

“I…” he trailed off for the upteenth time, Hermione ahd never seen him at such a loss for words, so completely out of his element, except for one conversation they had over a year ago about…

Astoria.

Hermione felt her heart beat painfully against her ribcage and let go of his arm as though burned. He seemed taken aback by her sudden shift in demeanor and she tried to play it off by renewing his earlier silencing charm.

“Is this about… is everything okay… at home?”

She watched his shoulders tense once more, his defenses falling into place. She quickly backtracked.

“I mean, it’s fine if you don’t want to tell me. I understand it’s very personal. But if you did want to talk about it, or just talk... _around_ it, you know, I’m here.”

Internally she was screaming at her own awkwardness. She was great at comforting friends and family members, male and female, through a multitude of situations. Why was she experiencing word diarrhea now?

Draco seemed just as painfully uncomfortable which was a small comfort.

“Granger, I don’t… I just... “ he took a deep breath, seeing resolved to barrel through no matter the discomfort. “I don’t want to fuck this up.”

Hermione tilted her head, genuine curiosity overriding all other feelings, her analytical mind taking charge of the situation.

“Why would you fuck it up?”

He gave a small shrug which she only noticed because she was still holding onto his arm. She quickly let go.

“I don’t know. By not supporting her enough during her pregnancy. By not saying or doing the right thing, whatever the hell that is. I don’t know what she needs or wants and I’m pretty sure I’m shite at guessing.”

“Oh.” She averted her gaze and bo the inside of her cheek, wondering how much tact she was obliged to use when they were otherwise baring parts of their soul in the bank lobby. “Well, have you tried, I don’t know… just asking her?”

He raised a pale brow. “Just _asking_ her what she’s feeling? I may be daft but I’m not that daft, Granger. _If you have to ask, you’ll never know._ Also proof that women have been fucking with men’s heads since the dawn of time.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Very funny. Helena was referring to a magically sealed room in the castle, not a husband’s psychic ability pertaining to his wife’s emotional state.”

“Po-tay-to, po-tah-to.”

“Bloody hell, Malfoy.”

He sighed and shook head. “It doesn’t matter because I’ve tried asking and she says everything’s fine, tells me not to do anything, but I feel like I’m missing something which makes me feel like I’m letting her down.”

Hermione felt a swell of emotion blossom in her chest at the pained look on his face.

“Do you mind giving me a little more context into what’s happening? I might be able to provide some insight from my own experience with Rose.”

Draco seemed to hesitate for a moment, no doubt debating the merits of pouring his blood and guts all over the shiny marble at her feet in such a public venue no less. But he impressed her by tamping down the obvious urge to bail and pressing forward.

“She’s due in a month and still won’t let me set up the nursery. Not even paint on the walls. She didn’t want a shower and refuses to discuss the pregnancy or anything relating to children with anyone outside of her healers. She won’t even discuss it with me. When I insist she gets upset and says the stress is affecting her and the child which automatically shuts down the discussion. I feel like I’m losing my mind, like the entire pregnancy is a dream or some illusion of smoke and mirrors. Tomorrow she could wake up with a flat stomach and nothing else in the house or our lives would change which feels wrong and irresponsible given the timeframe. I could be a father in a month and I haven't even built the crib.”

With each word he seemed to deflate until his eyes eyes were flat and lifeless. Hermione shook her head. “There’s got to be more to it than that, for Astoria to be so averse to acknowledging the pregnancy.”

She saw his jaw clench and suspected his shields were about to slide back into place. She didn’t want him to shut down now, not after making this far with confiding in her. She decided to meet him halfway by exposing one of her intimate secrets, something only a select few of her closest friends knew.

“I had a miscarriage, prior to Rose. It devastated me. When I finally worked up the courage to try again and fell pregnant for the second time I was so terrified of getting my hopes up, of getting my heart set on something so completely only to have to ripped away at any moment. The further along in the pregnancy the more fearful I became. Merlin, I’m still fearful and Rose is here. But what I’m saying is, I had my reasons for being anxious about my pregnancy and it sounds like Astoria does, too.”

They stared at each other for a long moment before she noticed his jaw relax. He released a deep breath through his nose. “I’m sorry, Granger. I… I didn’t know.”

She nodded. “I didn’t want anyone to know. I swore Ron to secrecy. Only our families and closest friends were told but I honestly would have preferred telling no one. I hated their sympathy. I didn’t want condolences, I wanted a child.”

He considered her for a moment more before speaking in a clipped tone.“Two year ago Astoria and I had a stillborn son. She suffered a handful of miscarriages before that, and afterwards it took us a long time before we started trying again. Finding out we were pregnant wasn’t an exciting moment, it was almost felt like a hurdle, yet another loss we’d be made to suffer. But none of her pregnancies have made it this far and the healers are telling us the baby is healthy. Now it feels like we should be allowed to feel joy and excitement.”

Hermione smiled. “Then feel joy and excitement.”

“I want her to feel it as well.”

“You can’t make her feel a certain way about her pregnancy, Draco. She’ll come around in her own time on her own terms, you can only be there to support her through whatever she’s going through. I know you feel helpless just standing by and watching, but being present is half the battle. She’ll come to you when she’d ready, she’ll tell you what she needs. You have to trust in her to do that, because it’s the only option you’ve got. If you try to force her you’ll only push her away.”

She was thinking back to her own rollercoaster pregnancy and marriage tribulations with Ron. She knew Draco and Astoria were their own people with their own relationship but she felt like the advice was ubiquitous.

Draco blinked and a pale eyelash fell onto his cheek. That’s when she realized they were standing less than a foot apart. She also became aware of the small circle of strangers surrounding them, no doubt drawn to the appeal of Hermione Granger-Weasley, one third Golden Trio member and Draco Malfoy, infamous death eater, engaging in an intense and silent discussion. She wouldn’t be surprised if someone had attempted to cancel their silencing charm without their notice.

Draco looked up as well, seeming to realize they were still in the bank lobby and scowling at the blatant onlookers.

“Circe’s tits, don’t people have anything better to do?”

She shook her head. “Just be glad there aren’t any reporters here, I can only imagine the yarn they’d spin from a photo.”

Whatever spell had been cast to make them share such intimate secrets was shattered. A look of casual indifference was back on his face as he cancelled their silencing charm and stepped around her toward the exit.

“I appreciate the sage advice, Granger. In return, I advise you not to quit your new day job. Relationship counseling looks as terrible on you as the color of that blouse.”

She rolled her eyes, watching him disappear through the massive doors. So much for turning a new leaf.


	13. Chapter Thirteen

**A/N:** Hello my wonderful, beautiful readers! Thank you so much for following my story, and a special shout out if you’ve reviewed, given kudos, or bookmarked. Seriously, your support is the biggest motivator and some days all that keeps me writing.

That said, I’m getting near the end of “part one” and closer to the main course where all the juicy drama happens and shit gets nuts. But I am hesitant to continue with such low feedback so far. I feel like no one enjoys reading my updates as much as I enjoy writing them.

So **if you would like for me to continue this story please let me know** , even just clicking the kudos button is helpful so I know you’re out there. Otherwise I’ll take the silence as a hint it's time to turn my focus to new projects.

But in the meantime, an update… enjoy :)

* * *

**May 4, 2006**  
**Lyndhurst, Hampshire**

Rodolphus stood outside the large wooden gate carved with intricate interlocking R’s. He’d been watching the home since yesterday evening, taking note of every rosebush and hummingbird to cross the property line while he lurked under a disillusionment charm. It was quite the challenge to stay covert with a six month old infant in tow. He had no choice but to bring her along, he certainly couldn’t leave her alone at the local inn and he trusted no one else to look over her.

Correction, there was one person he trusted to look over her. Which is what led him to this gate on this particular wet and rainy afternoon.

After coming to terms with the reality that he had somehow managed to travel forward in time he realized he had limited options in terms of next steps. He needed to explore the current world, apprising himself of the political, economical and social powers that be so he could establish his own place in the hierarchy. He needed to find allies, regroup and establish resources. But most importantly he needed to be unencumbered by the round the clock responsibility of caring for a child.

He loved Delphi more than anyone or anything but he couldn’t ensure her safety while taking care of whatever lay ahead. He had no idea what dangers lie in hiding, waiting to spring their traps to kill or imprison him. He wasn’t prepared to risk her future. He wanted to build her a new one.

The first step was leaving her in the care of someone he knew he could rely on. Not because he harbored any particular fondness for them, but because they were contractually obligated to see to the baby’s well being under pain of death.

Honestly, why every parent didn’t put their nannies under an Unbreakable Vow was beyond him.

He apparated through the gates and onto the gravel road that cut through a dense, green wooded path to a large circular drive with a fountain at its center. The three story Edwardian style home sitting beyond was as lavish as he remembered. He had already cast revelio spells and knew she was home alone, aside from the elves she had maintaining the household.

He walked the path at a leisurely pace, taking in the scenery and pointing out the various plants and animals to the baby as she peered around with large excited eyes.

“Look Del, plumeria. I brought your mother a bouquet of purple plumeria after you were born. We put it in a vase next to your crib.”

She cooed at the large colorful blooms, grabbing at the petals with chubby fingers and sneezing at a cloud of pollen. He laughed and broke a stem off the bush, handing her the flower to play with as they continued their journey to the house.

He heard rustling in a group of shrubs and as they approached a small furry creature darted away into the tree. He tilted his head for a better view and caught two pairs of glowing eyes staring at him from a heavily whiskered face. He smiled.

“I haven’t seen a four eyed pesukaru since I was a boy.”

He heard a low pitched keening several yards away, peering through the trees he noticed a gated clearing with horses.

“Are those…?” he squinted to get a better view of the animals when one of the creatures, dusty gray in color, bent its head to eat and unfurled a set of wings from its body. They flapped once, their silvery underside catching the sparse rays of sunlight filtering through the clouds and glimmering even at this distance.

“A Granian… breathtaking. Can you see its wings, Del? Isn’t it the most beautiful animal you’ve ever seen?”

She mewled happily, her eyes fixated on the sparkling wings.

“They look like metal don’t they? You love shiny things.”

He gently plucked the plumeria from her hands, now mostly crushed and bent, and discarded it on the ground. Before she could throw a fit at his thievery he summoned a large peony, still mid bloom, and cast a color changing charm from petal to stem transforming the entire blossom into a dark metallic pink, catching the light at every angle. He then cast a preservation charm making the bloom impermeable to destruction by her eager hands and mouth.

“A flower for milady,” he said with a smug smile, impressed by his own creation. He knew she’d love it. Sure enough she squealed in delight and snatched the shiny flower from his hands, pressing it into her face to get a closer look, mesmerized by the sight.

“I’ll tell the elves to charm your entire nursery metallic.” He watched her squirm and play with the bloom, oblivious to his words. Still, he pressed on. “I’m doing this for us, Del. I need to straighten a few things out so we’ll be set for the long haul. But I promise you, I’m coming back. We have to be apart now, just for a little while, so we can be together for a long time. We’ll be a family.”

She was gnawing on a petal but glanced beyond the sparkly bloom to meet his gaze. He was as mesmerized by her eyes as she was by shiny objects. They seemed to change color depending on her surroundings, though they most commonly appeared a deep blue, almost violet color. Her mother’s eyes were the same pale grey so frequent among the Blacks, and her… other parent’s eyes were… Rodolphus stared off into the trees trying to remember the color of the Dark Lord’s gaze before he became half beast.

Thinking of his Master’s form before Rodolphus served his first Azkaban sentence was a challenge. So much of what happened in the decade he spent as a Death Eater prior to imprisonment was a blur. Despite rough housing in his youth Rodolphus wasn’t naturally predisposed to violence, not until Bella came along. She introduced him to an entirely new world of power, obsession and need. Those years, all of his 20s, were lived high octane and half crazed, his wife the only anchor keeping him rooted at least partially in reality. Most days his love for Bella was the only proof he had of being a man and not a rabid beast.

“Those days are behind me now,” he spoke to the wind, trying to purge whatever dark emotion had seized him. “I promise I will be a better man from now on. I will be a man deserving the title of father.”

Delphi blinked at him tiredly, leaning her head against his chest and rubbing at her eyes. He smiled, running his hand over the dark brown wisps on her head. The simple act of taking care of her was a great distraction from his inner demons and dark thoughts. Not having her with him would be challenging in more ways than he originally realized.

He was almost upon the house now, the only visible sign of his presence the footsteps he left in the gravel. “We’re here, Delphi. Try and keep an open mind. Remember, this is only temporary.”

He dropped the disillusionment charm and knocked on the door.

He heard soft footsteps and then the door opened to reveal a gray and elderly elf. He didn’t recognize the creature, truthfully he’d never been good at telling any of the little beasts apart, but it clearly recognized him. It’s already disproportionately large eyes went even wider, the gaping mouth slanting down at an obscene angle to convey the unpleasantness of his unscheduled arrival.

“M-m-master Les-s-t- “

“Yes,” he interrupted, sparing but a glance at the servant and sweeping his gaze over the interior beyond. The inside was immaculately clean but barren, much of the opulent furniture he remembered from his first visit gone, leaving long stretches of empty floor and walls. Even the crystal chandelier that used to oversee the entryway was missing.

“Go fetch your Mistress.”

The creature bowed in jerky movements, clearly in discomfort. “Yes, Master. Fletch will return soon.”

It popped out of the room, allowing Rodolphus to step fully inside and close the door. He peered down and saw Delphi had drifted off to sleep still clutching her flower. He slowly inspected the foyer, careful not to jostle her.

He peered at a painting of a lush green landscape, the gentle breeze blowing through the trees and rippling across the lake in the background. It was a serene paradise and struck a cord of familiarity the longer he gazed upon it. If he focused hard enough he could practically hear his wife’s voice.

_“I’m in hell.”_

_He glanced away from the painting to look at her. She was staring at the many portraits adorning the wall beside the main staircase. Most of them featured furry animals or nature scenes. The few people appearing in the frames were either accompanied by animals or frolicking through meadows._

_“I don’t want to jump to any conclusions, but I think a twat lives here.”_

_He smiled sardonically. “What gave it away?"_

_She casually shrugged and returned her focus to a painting of puppies with bows around their necks, watching them tumble around in a simpering pile. “She was an addle cunt in school, prancing about with those fucking ribbons in her hair and around her waist, like a pedophile’s wet dream. I assumed it was a ploy for attention. There was hardly a knob she didn’t polish. But now I’m thinking all those potions she dumped on her head to make her hair that disgusting shade of piss finally seeped into her brain.”_

_He blinked and met her eye. He stared at her for three beats before bursting into laughter._

_“What?” she asked in annoyance. “Don’t tell me she’s deluded you into thinking she’s some posh bird. Rab’s got shite for brains and thinks exclusively with his rotten cock but I expected better from you.”_

_He took a deep breath to calm his laughter. “Come now, love. You know she isn’t my type. I prefer my women to have wits and beauty in equal measure, she could never compete with the object of my affection.”_

_Bella made a show of rolling her eyes but he saw the pleased set of her mouth as she looked away and continued her inspection of the house._

_“I don’t trust her. I think we we should go.”_

_He sighed quietly to himself. He was used to her mood swings and impulsivity and had come prepared for such._

_“Bella, this is only a last resort. We need to think about what’s best for Delphi.”_

_“Oh, shut it!” She yelled, spinning on her heel and glaring daggers. “You always fucking do that! Do you think I don’t know what’s best for my own child? Everything I fucking do is in her best interest!”_

_“I didn’t say otherwise-”_

_“No, you just implied it, like a fucking coward!”_

_He continued peering at the vases perched on a nearby shelf, waiting out her tantrum._

_“I’m sick and tired of everyone treating me like an incompetent fool! I got enough of that when I was pregnant and now I’m constantly ridiculed for not raising her right! I get lectures from Cissy on an hourly basis, your passive aggressive comments everytime I enter the fucking nursery! And now I’m told I don’t have Del’s best interest at heart because I don’t feel comfortable turning her over to a fucking cunt who’s hated me since Hogwarts!”_

_He sighed. “Well you can hardly blame her, considering she was the one who ended up in the infirmary.”_

_She scoffed loudly. “She was a lying bitch, her nose wasn’t broken!”_

_He held her stare, folding his hands behind his back._

_She scowled. “Fine. Maybe I broke her nose. It couldn’t look any worse than it already did. She’s lucky I didn’t break her neck. She spread vile fucking rumors to prevent me from getting Head Girl. If she’d been successful they’d have never found her body.”_

_“Rumors imply I was lying,” came a light feminine voice from the top of the stairs. He and Bella spun around with wands drawn. Once Rodolphus spotted the source of the voice he lowered his weapon, smiling amicably, while Bella remained poised to strike._

_“Plan on cursing me dead in my own home, Bella dear? That would be in very poor taste. Of course you’ve never been a very good judge of what’s tasteful, have you?”_

_“Fucking cunt,” his wife hissed, just loud enough for the woman on the stairs to hear._

_Rodolphus took a deep breath, he certainly had his work cut out for him._

Blinking out of the memory he heard the sound of footsteps approaching, light and fast. He stepped into the middle of the foyer, gently rocking Delphi as she cooed in her sleep. He looked up as a slight feminine form rounded the corner.

There was a high pitched gasp, a delicate hand flew to cover lips painted a ruby red.

“I- I- It can’t be…”

“Hello, Euphemia. I’m back. And I’ve brought someone for you to meet.”

The woman glanced down at the dozing babe cradled to his chest and the color drained from her face completely. She swayed on her feet once, twice, and then collapsed in an unconscious heap. Rodolphus slowly approached until he stood over her prone form.

“Good to see you, too.”

* * *

**May 4, 2006**  
**West Brompton, London**

Draco stepped into his home and closed the door behind him, turning the deadbolt and then casting a series of locking charms.

“Tori, I’m home!” he called into the empty foyer, removing his jacket and dropping his keys into the bowl on the entry table.

He didn’t expect a reply since he so seldom received one. He flung his jacket over his arm as he headed upstairs for his bedroom. In the hall he heard music emitting from the room at the end. The door was ajar so he took it as a sign she wasn’t completely shutting him out today. He knocked softly on the door frame and heard the volume of the music decrease.

“Come in.”

He took a deep breath and pushed open the door, stepping into her crafting studio. She sat at a small table covered in loose gems and beads, a length of wire in her hand.

“What are you making?” he asked as he leaned against the wall, carefully avoiding the stacks of plastic organizing crates on either side.

“I haven't decided yet.”

He studied her in silence, his eyes drifting to the her very swollen belly.

“How are you feeling today?”

“Fine. And you?”

He bit the inside of his cheek. Sometimes talking to her felt as awkward as when they first started dating. The last four years of their marriage felt like a dream, intangible and unreal.

“My day was long, but I finally signed the Denali account so the last two months of torture paid off.”

She made a soft humming sound as she threaded large emerald beads onto the wire. “That’s great, Draco. Congratulations.”

He stared at her for a moment longer. “Thank you.”

They fell silent once again as he continued to watch her work, her repetitive movements hypnotic and lulling him into a dreamy state.

“You look exhausted, you should lay down.”

He blinked, the spell broken. He stood from the wall. “Yeah, I might.”

She continued to focus on her crafts, wandlessly turning the music back up. He sighed and made his way for the door. Halfway out he paused and turned around.

“Hey.”

He waited until she looked up, pale green eyes surrounded by long dark lashes, always one of her most beautiful features if it wasn’t for the lifelessness behind them.

“I thought this weekend we could go shopping for the nursery-”

“I’m going to the spa with Trace and Mel.”

He blinked. “Oh. Okay. Well, maybe after-”

“Daph is stopping by this evening. I know you wanted to give Greg your old racing broom.”

He sighed. “Okay, Tori.” He shut the door behind him and made his way for the bedroom. “Okay.”

* * *

Draco poured himself two fingers of firewhiskey, picking the knife back up and grabbing another pepper. Before the blade made contact with the vibrant green skin the doorbell rang. He set aside the knife and wiped his hands on the dish towel.

“Coming!”

He made his way across the kitchen and through the living room, slipping his wand from his back pocket. The doorbell rang again and he rolled his eyes. She was just as impatient as she had been in school, yelling at him anytime he kept her and Pansy waiting for more than ten seconds.

“Merlin, Daph,” he muttered as he waved his wand and unlocked the door, “Calm do-”

But it wasn’t his sister-in-law’s face who greeted him on the other side.

“Snape.”

“Draco.”

He blinked, unconsciously blocking the doorway with his body. Snape rose a dark brow.

“Is this a bad time?”

Draco blinked again.

“That depends on why you’re here.”

Severus peered skyward. “It’s going to start raining soon, could we move this discussion inside?”

He sighed.”Snape-”

“Honestly, Draco, what are you afraid I’m going to do?”

Snape looked bored, indifferent to the mental battle Draco was waging internally.

“Fine. But you’re saying whatever you came to say while I continue making dinner. Which you are not invited to.”

“Always the epitome of a gentleman.”

“Eat me.”

Severus shook his head as he stepped inside. Draco turned away immediately, heading for the kitchen and leaving his uninvited guest to shut the door and cast the locking charms.

“How is Astoria?”

“Can we skip the pleasantries and get to the point?”

“Tell me Draco, are you always in such a foul mood or do I somehow inspire these feelings of animosity?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “I’ll give you one guess.”

He picked up the knife and started slicing into the pepper with much more enthusiasm than before. Severus entered a moment later, pulling out a chair and sitting behind the breakfast bar overlooking the main kitchen.

“Seems my potion lessons stayed with you.”

Draco raised a pale brow, obviously not wanting to converse but curious nonetheless.

“And why is that, Snape?” he asked without emotion, focused on the task at hand.

“You still prefer utensils to wandwork when preparing ingredients.”

Draco paused in his motions, staring blankly at the counter in front of him before shaking his head and laughing bitterly.

“And you think you’re to credit for that, huh?”

Draco looked up at his godfather with such vehemence it caused Severus to lean back in his chair as if to escape his gaze.

“Sorry to break it to you,” Draco continued, looking away and resuming his prep work, “But your lessons made far less impact than my aunt’s. It’s a little hard cutting a vegetable with the same spell I watched slice a man’s head clean off.”

He heard Snape drum his fingers on the countertop in the long silence that followed. Finally the older wizard sighed.

“I’m sorry you’re still upset with me, Draco. Is there anything I can say to-”

“No.”

He stared at his godson in silence until Draco couldn’t stand the tension.

“Merlin! What are you doing here, Snape?”

Severus rested his elbows on the counter, steepling his fingers. “I visited your mother this morning.”

Draco blinked. “Did you now?”

“Yes, and while I was there she received a letter from you.”

Draco sighed and set the knife aside, turning on the sink to wash his hands. “And let me guess, you’d like to insert yourself into our business?”

“I simply have a piece of insight you may be interested in. If I’m wrong then let me know and I’ll leave you to your evening.”

“You know where the door is.”

Snape slammed a hand on the counter. “Dammit, Draco! When will you let go of these childish grudges and-”

“Childish grudges?” Draco yelled, spinning around and storming closer. “You really can’t see it can you? You’re a self serving prick and I want you to stay away from my mother!”

Severus sighed, leaning back in his chair. “I find it ironic you have a problem with my spending time with Narcissa when you so seldom visit her yourself.”

“Mind your own fucking business!”

“Draco?”

Both men turned to face Astoria. She held one hand to her stomach and the other against the doorframe. “Is everything okay?”

He blinked, stepping back from the breakfast bar. “Yes. Everything’s fine.”

Severus stood. “I’m sorry if we disturbed you, Astoria. How are you doing these days?”

She smiled politely, though it didn’t reach her eyes. “I’m doing good, Professor. It’s been a while. Are you joining us for dinner?”

“No.” Draco answered, eyes fixed on his godfather. “He can’t stay.”

Severus kept his focus on Astoria. “Alas, I have other engagements this evening. I just came by to speak briefly with Draco. And please, I implore you again to call me Severus. I haven’t been a professor in many years.”

She looked a touch self conscious, something Draco wasn’t used to seeing on her.

“It’s habit-”

“Tori, darling, would you mind putting some pasta on to boil while Snape and I talk in my study?”

She blinked. “Oh, um…” she glanced between the two men. “Sure.”

“Thank you.” He wasn’t sure what compelled him to do so but suddenly he was crossing the room to gently grasp her upper arms, kissing her forehead. He felt her stiffen but remain still, just as expected. He knew she wouldn’t pull away from his touch with Snape in the room.

“I won’t be long.” he whispered, releasing her and gesturing for Severus to follow him out of the room.

They stepped into his home office at the end of the hall. He wasted no time in casting a silencing charm, realizing a moment later the man standing before him was the one to teach him the incantation.

“Alright,” he sighed, “Why are you here?”

“I told you, I came in response to your letter to-”

“Did she send you?”

“Would that matter?”

Draco kicked the chair beside his desk. “Dammit! Will you just answer my question?”

Severus folded his hands behind his back, looking all the more calm in the wake of Draco’s anger.

“No, your mother did not send me. Though she was in favor of my decision to speak to you regarding the-”

“That’s great, you two talking about me.”

“Well she is your mother and I am your godfather, is it really so hard to believe you’d be the topic of conversation every now and then?”

Draco rolled his eyes. “Please get on with it so you can leave.”

“Perhaps we should sit-”

“I don’t want you getting comfortable, just-”

“Draco!” Severus shouted, effectively startling the blonde into silence. “Please shut up and sit down. If you trust me on nothing else let it be this, you will want to be seated for this conversation.”

Draco tensed, obviously hesitant. Finally he took a step back towards his desk, watching his godfather as he pulled out a chair as though afraid the man would strike the moment he looked away.

“Okay,” he said once seated. “I’m sitting down, now talk.”

Seveurs mirrored his actions, leaning back and crossing his feet at the ankles once seated. “You wrote to your mother about an interesting discovery you and Potter made while at the Manor yesterday evening.”

“I’m aware.”

“You found a room you weren’t familiar with.”

“No.”

Severus blinked. “No?”

“Potter found the room. I couldn’t see the fucking door.” He watched the older wizard’s face carefully, his hand curling into a fist. “You don’t look surprised by this particular detail, which is odd because I was quite taken aback.”

The stretch of silence that followed felt deafening.

“When you saw the contents of the room, did any of it seem familiar?”

Draco’s jaw tensed. “Maybe. Parts of it. I’m not sure. It’s… hard to think about. My thoughts become muddled when-” he broke off, his eyes widening to comical size. “Fuck… I was obliviated, wasn’t I?”

Severus stared at him so calmly his blood boiled. He slammed his fists onto the tabletop. “Dammit, Snape! What is going on?”

“I will explain everything-”

“Then fucking talk!”

“I am trying to! But you need to calm do-”

“Don’t you fucking dare tell me to calm down! I just found out someone altered my fucking memories without my knowledge! I’m allowed to be fucking upset!”

“In that case you’re doing a superb job, Draco. Please continue.”

Draco swallowed and closed his eyes, counting backwards from five in his head in an attempt to resist leaping over the table to throttle the other man. His thoughts were heavily scattered but one thing he knew for certain was killing Snape would result in zero answers. As much as he desired making his godfather bleed for his impertinence he desired answers more.

“Okay… I’m calm.” He ground out, teeth clenched and palms flat against the wood. “Now fucking _explain_.”

The older wizard sniffed, leaning his head back to look down his prominent nose at the blonde. “I erased your memories.”

Draco blinked, his anger forgotten for a moment as a sudden memory came surging back, as though waiting for Snape’s confession to break free from the recesses of his mind.

_“Draco? Sweetheart, can you hear me?”_

_Draco blinked, leaning up from his slumped over position on the chaise. He looked around the study in confusion. Had be been sleeping? What time was it? What day? He rubbed at his forehead, feeling utterly exhausted._

_He blinked again, his eyes falling on his godfather, sitting in a high backed chair facing him. His expression was blank, black eyes fixed firmly on him, watching his every movement like a predator tracking its prey. Draco felt the hairs on the back of his neck rise._

_But then movement at the corner of his eye drew his focus. His mother was sitting beside him on the chaise, her hands hovering an inch from his arm, wanting to touch but hesitant to make contact._

_“Mum? What happened?”_

_She smiled and leaned in, her hands wrapping around his upper arm as she pulled him to his feet._

_“Nothing, my love. You dozed off. Severus and I came to check on you after you missed supper.”_

_Draco opened his mouth to respond but the headrush that overtook him once he was standing stole whatever words he might have said._

_“See? Low blood sugar…” she helped to steady him. Suddenly he felt a steadying hand at his back, this one broader and firmer than his mother’s delicate touch._

_“Careful,” Snape murmured. “He shouldn’t be walking around just yet. Let him rest in his room the remainder of the evening. Have the elves bring him a tray.”_

_Draco looked at them both in confusion. They were speaking as though he was injured or sick. If he was only napping why should he avoid walking around? But the more he thought about it the heavier the headrush became, making his vision blur and thoughts scatter in the wind. He grasped at his head once more and was vaguely aware of his godfather pushing his mother aside to fully support Draco’s weight._

_“Come along,” he said before helping him stagger down the hallway to his bedroom._

Draco blinked. “I… I remember… that day you and mum woke me… I wasn’t really asleep was I? You obliviated me…”

He couldn’t believe he’d been stupid enough not to notice the signs of memory alteration earlier. He’d been so preoccupied with his father’s arrest and the stress of his own trial he hadn’t dwelled on the mysterious occurrence beyond that day. And the actual memory seemed to evade him until this very moment, replaying in his mind’s eye with such vivid clarity it was as though it happened only yesterday.

“What… why?” He couldn’t form a question comprehensive enough to capture everything he wanted to know.

But Severus seemed to understand, taking a deep breath as though preparing for the onslaught to follow. “You mother and I decided obliviation was the safest course, in light of the Ministry investigation of all those Marked. You were in possession of a piece of knowledge that put you in mortal danger if shared, even against your will.”

Draco's gaze drifted as he searched his memory for whatever Snape could be referring to. But the moment he thought of the room-

“Ah!” he shouted, squeezing his eyes shut and grasping his throbbing skull.

“Don’t try to force it, Draco!”

“I don’t… I don’t understand…” He tried to think of something unrelated and mundane, the weather, the stock report, the recipe for Tori's favorite pasta sauce… the pain slowly faded. “I didn’t have a headache when I discovered the… the..”

_“Fucking hell... “_

_“Of all the sick twisted shite I was picturing, this is so much creepier.”_

_“Fucking hell.”_

_“You already said that, Malfoy. Move back, let me check for curses.”_

_Potter cast a detection spell, easing his stance when it came back negative. He then stepped over the crumbled remains of the wall and entered the seemingly innocuous room._

_“This is… you’re seeing what I’m seeing, right?”_

_Draco hesitated a moment longer before slowly entering the room as well. “That depends, are you seeing a child’s nursery?”_

_“Yeah.”_

_“Then unfortunately yes.”_

_Potter inspected the stuffed animals and porcelain figurines on the shelf, poking them with his wand as though they’d spring to life and attack._

_“But you couldn’t see the door.”_

_Draco touched the mobile above the crib, watching as the silver and gold stars spun in a slow circle. “No, I couldn’t.”_

_“And judging by your reaction, you’ve never seen this room before?”_

_He glanced at the immaculate changing table, marred only by a thick layer of dust. He ran a hand over the edge, inspecting the build up on his fingertips._

_“I don’t think anyone’s seen this room in a very long time.”_

_“That’s not what I asked.”_

_Draco sighed, suppressing the scathing remark on his tongue. “No, Potter, I’ve never laid eyes on this room before.”_

_As soon as he said it a voice in the back of his mind whispered ‘Yes you have…’_

_He swallowed, briefly closing his eyes but unable to land any solid memory of the room or its contents, only a general sensation of familiarity. The more he chased after the feeling the more it evaded him._

_He opened his eyes at the sound of a small crash and saw Potter tangled up in a sheer curtain strung above a bassinet in the corner. The Auror’s foot was trapped in a miniature rocking griffin, caught between the curved rails at the base. Draco couldn’t hold in his laughter at the sight._

_“Shut it, Malfoy. If this was a hippogriff you’d already be flat on your back.”_

_His laughter quickly dissolved into a scowl._

Draco shook his head, pulling out of the memory but his look of supreme annoyance remaining. His godfather was watching him carefully. “You likely suffered no adverse effects because you weren’t trying to force the memories to the surface as you are now.”

Draco tried to harness his thoughts but found it difficult to avoid thinking about the topic he was told to avoid. “Wait, what do you mean force them to the surface? The memories are still there?”

Severus looked away quickly, an obvious debate occurring within his own mind before he looked back with certainty in his black gaze. “Yes. I thought it was safer to lock the memories away instead of destroying them entirely. Ignorance wouldn’t spare you from the Vow and I didn’t want to render you powerless should the knowledge be beneficial at some point.”

Draco paled. “The _Vow_?”

Severus folded his hands calmly. “Yes, the Unbreakable Vow the Dark Lord placed you under.”

Draco took a moment to process the weight of those words before geering up for an extensive line of questioning. However before he could get the first word out Snape raised a hand in a staying gesture.

“I know you have many question, however I think it will be a more efficient use of both our time if I return the memories first, should you desire their restoration.”

Draco didn’t hesitate. “Yes. I want back everything you took.”

“I didn’t take anything from you, I merely-”

“You blocked vital memories, there’s nothing _mere_ about it. You say it was for my own protection, but you’ve said that before and I didn’t exactly see the situation the same way, as you may recall.”

“Your warm reception of me since that day has made it difficult to forget.”

Draco scowled. “You’re lucky I even still let you into my home. And now I find out you’ve altered my memories and lied about it for years! I want you to reverse whatever you did immediately.”

Severus nodded, seemingly unaffected by his godson’s scorn as he drew his wand and aimed it squarely at his pale forehead.

“Certainly. As I said before, you’ll want to sit down for this.”


	14. Chapter Fourteen

**A/N:** Happy Easter my little beauties! Does anyone else have the pleasure of watching adorable kiddos scavenge for eggs? I spent my morning hiding about ten thousand candy filled bastards throughout the house and around the backyard and have a feeling I'll be stumbling across undiscovered eggs for many months to come. That said, I am looking forward to taking a bajillion pics of my nieces :D

I'm having SUCH a good day I decided to send a little love my awesome readers' way with an update! Thank you once again for continuing to read my little story, and a special thank you to everyone who showed support by leaving reviews and kudos on the last chapter. Your words of encouragement are directly responsible for this update :D

* * *

 **May 4, 2006**  
**Lyndhurst, Hampshire**

Euphemia slowly blinked back to consciousness.

Her head felt like it was full of rocks. Her mouth full of sand, her eyelids stuffed with cotton.

“Wha…?” She groaned, bringing a hand to her head to block out the bright lamp light that glowed beside her head. There was darkness beyond the tall windows. Nightfall. She felt with abstract awareness she’d lost several hours of time.

She peered at her surroundings and saw the neutral decor of her guest parlor located at the back of the house. She lay sprawled across one of the chaise lounges.

“What the hell?” She asked into the empty room. She never came in here. She never napped in here. And she certainly never passed out in here.

She pulled herself into a sitting position and tried to swallow but her mouth was too dry. She closed her eyes and rubbed at her throbbing temples.

“Fletch!” she called out. A soft pop of apparition sounded to her left and she spoke blindly in his direction. “Bring me my medicine. Hurry!”

“Er… yes, Mistress.”

He lingered a moment too long, causing her to scowl into her hands. “Circe! My head feels like it’s going to split open and pour out onto the floor! Go now you infernal creature!”

She sighed in relief at the sound of his departure, counting the seconds until his return. To her great frustration the sound of footsteps greeted her. She paid no mind to the details, such as the footfalls sounding much too heavy to belong to the small elf, or the fact the elves traveled via apparition from room to room, especially when tasked with fetching her potion as quickly as possible.

All she knew what that relief was just a few swallows away, the end to her suffering within arm’s reach.

“Give it here!” she snapped, grasping blindly in his direction. A hand much too large to be that of an elf met hers, she tensed at the foreign touch but suddenly a glass vial was pressed into her palm and nothing else mattered. She snatched the vial and removed the cork with her teeth, spitting out the stopper and downing the contents in a few quick swallows.

She kept her eyes pinned shut, refusing to let reality soak in until the effects of the purple liquid kicked in. She counted backwards from ten, barely to five when she felt the telltale loosening of her muscles, the tension melting away like butter and a pleasant tingling sensation replacing the throbbing in her head. She swallowed reflexively, breathing a sigh of contentment. There was no greater sensation than the cessation of pain.

Her eyes slowly opened, her vision a bit blurred but focusing after a few blinks. Everything seemed brighter, sharper. She could see the man standing before her in crystal clarity. She blinked, staring at him for a few seconds before sitting back against the chaise and crossing her legs at the knee.

“I thought I was dreaming.”

He stared at her in silence for a few beats before slowly walking to the couch facing opposite her. He sat down, his giant frame overtaking the delicate piece of furniture as he leaned back, arms stretched over the backrest.

“I’m surprised you can tell the difference between reality and dreams, with that shite swimming through your system.”

She blinked slowly, his words filtering through her mind at half speed.

“I have a condition-”

“I’m sure you do.”

She raised a manicured brow. “Is Rodolphus Lestrange passing judgement on _me_ for my vices?”

He peered around the room with casual ease. “Hardly. I’m merely pointing out a side effect of prolonged Elysium use. In case your local potioneer didn’t warn you.”

She swallowed. “How did you-”

“The scent is quite distinctive. Dealers always think to alter the color but never the smell.”

She shifted uncomfortably, crossing and uncrossing her legs.

“Don’t worry, Euphemia,” he smirked, “You hardly have to worry about me turning you into the Ministry.”

She studied her glossy manicure in great detail. “In the potion’s defense, it wasn’t to blame for my confusion. You’re supposed to be dead.”

She heard him chuckle but didn’t look up to see his amused expression.

“Am I? I’m sure that news excited you.”

She bit the inside of her cheek.

“It’s okay, Euphemia, I’m not here to hurt you.”

Now she did glance up, staring at him with open fear in her eyes.

“Is that so? Guess I’ll have to take your word for it.”

His amusement faded. “I need your help.”

“My help? Rod, look around you.”

He blinked, taken off guard by her directive but glancing around the room nonetheless.

“Do you notice anything different?”

He furrowed his brow, unsure how to voice his earlier observation. However she seemed to read the hesitation in his eyes, leaning forward and gesturing to the room at large with her hands.

“I’ve sold off just about every antique that isn’t fused to the foundation with a permanent sticking charm and I still can’t afford half the debts the Ministry pinned my family with! I’m not in a position to help anyone with anything. I can barely help myself.”

Her words ended on a bit of a slur, which only illustrated the truth of her statement. She was too high to feel proper embarrassment anyway.

“What about the gardens, the Granian I saw in your stable?”

She sighed, fishing around the cushions for something. “I pour what little money I have left into the landscaping and outdoor menagerie so we don’t advertise how destitute we are to the world. Not that it matters, it’s not like I entertain anymore. You’re the first visitor we’ve had in ages. First one to come back from the dead, anyway.” She laughed, shoving her hand under the cushion.

He watched her jerky movements without expression. “ _We_?”

“Hm?” she asked, sliding off the seat onto the floor and feeling underneath the chaise.

“Who is _we_ , Euphemia?”

She turned away to kneel down and look underneath.

“Oh, old habit. I meant _me_. Or I. However you say it. Or I say it. Oh where is the blasted thing?”

“What are you looking for?”

“My wand. I need a smoke.”

He waved his wand- when did he even grab it? Had it been in his hand this whole time? She blinked tiredly, watching him silently summon her much more delicate looking wand, catching it in his free hand. She reached out to take it and groaned when he slid it into his cloak.

“I’ll hold onto this until you feel better.”

She scowled. “I feel just fine. Please give me my wand.”

“I don’t think so. But I can get you the cigarette.”

He waved his wand once again, catching the thin gold case that flew into the room and flicking it open, pushing a cigarette free with practiced grace. She was too exhausted to fight him about her wand, though she suspected she’d be much more adamant about the topic had she been in full control of her faculties.

Instead she crawled to his side on her hands and knees, sashaying her hips as much as possible without tipping over. Once she reached his knees she sat up and leaned in with parted red lips, taking the cigarette between them and leaning her head back to pull it out of the case. She glanced up from half hooded eyes, batting her magically enhanced lashes as coquettishly as she could manage while stoned.

“Gotta light?” She murmured, smirking when he lit the tip with his wand. “Thanks.”

She stayed on the floor, leaning against the chaise at her back. He looked supremely unaffected by her little show. She felt too light and tingly to be offended.

“You look good.” She didn’t deliver the compliment with any heat or flirtation, merely making an objective observation. “The last eight years have been good to you, all things considered. You don’t look a day older.”

He shifted slightly, seeming to ponder something internally before settling on a small smirk. “You don’t look too bad yourself, Euphemia. _All things considered_.” His eyes quickly landed on the empty vial on the coffee table and she scowled at the implication.

“I’m not an addict!”

“I didn’t say you were.”

“You were thinking it.”

“I promise you, Euphemia, you have absolutely no idea what I’m thinking.”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “Well excuse me! You disappear out of thin air just to show up at my doorstep eight years later and I’m supposed to be offering you tea and biscuits?”

“That would be lovely, thank you. Though I’d prefer coffee to tea, if you have it.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a long drag and tipping her head to blow smoke skyward.

“Well you obviously have more control over my fucking elf than I do, why don’t you give him your order?” She glared petulantly at the ceiling until she heard him chuckle. “You really haven’t changed, have you?”

He laughed again. The sound was so familiar yet so… different… her eyes immediately searched for the source. “Merlin, you sound just like him when you laugh,” she muttered around her cigarette.

His expression quickly sobered. He considered her closely in the tense silence.

“Do you still talk to him? Is he alive?”

She blinked. “You don’t know?”

He shook his head, leaning towards her and resting his arms on his knees.

“How? You didn’t keep in contact with him while you were in hiding?”

“No…” he looked away, seeming to have that same internal debate before meeting her eyes. “It’s complicated. But I haven’t heard anything about him or any of the others in eight years. Tell me everything you know.”

He gazed at her so imploringly it made him look at least a decade younger, reminding her once again of his younger brother and of times far less dire and complicated. It softened her hardened heart just a fraction, just enough to humor him.

She cleared her throat once more, trying to break through the thick fog that had formed around her mind to string together a coherent sentence that didn’t implicate her too deeply. Rodolphus claimed to be a friend, but she knew first hand how quickly friends could become foes. That thought gave her pause.

“How do I know you’re really you?”

He seemed taken aback by the question. “What?”

“How do I know you aren’t some Ministry lackey, polyjuiced as a dead man to trick me into revealing something that’ll land me in a cell next to my nephew?”

He considered her for a moment, a look of annoyance flashing across his face before fading into his classic mask of indifference. He didn’t break her gaze as he delivered a memory that immediately made her chest ache anew.

“At Slughorn's Christmas party we got trapped under mistletoe. We kissed to get free, then both agreed not to tell anyone. We didn’t want our dates finding out.”

She felt tears forming behind her eyes at the memory and smirked to brush off the intensity of the moment. “I wouldn’t have minded Bella finding out I made out with her beau. I arrived prepared, I even wore red to hide any blood.”

He rolled his eyes but couldn’t hide the small smile that formed. “The two of you… Merlin. Be that as it may, I know neither of us looked forward to Rab finding out his older brother kissed his date before he did.”

She looked away, swallowing thickly and taking another drag. “I can’t believe you never told him. You never kept anything from each other.”

Rodolphus was silent a long moment before sighing. “We both had our secrets. I kept mine to protect him. Or so I told myself at the time.”

She glanced up, meeting his gaze and seeing whatever haunted emotion lived in her heart mirrored in his eyes. It felt good to share the burden of pain for once.

_Misery loves company._

“Now... will you tell me about my brother?”

She blew a smoke ring at the ceiling and closed her eyes.

“I don’t even know where to start.”

She heard him shift closer, the heat of his body radiating against her side.

“Tell me everything, starting from when I disappeared.”

* * *

 **May 4, 2006**  
**Knockturn Alley, London**

“You did _what_?”

Vivid green flames flared in every direction as she yelled, an enraged dragon emerging from his hearth.

“We discussed this before I departed your company this morning.”

“No, we discussed the miscarriage story! I can’t believe you told him the truth!”

“A miscarriage story wouldn’t have held any weight. Why would I erase his memory of Bella losing Rodolphus’s child?”

“I-- It-- We could have thought of something!”

“It is better this way, Narcissa.”

The fire reached dangerously close to his face as she bit back a scream. “What! How is this better? Now he’s once more in possession of information that could kill him and he hates us for suppressing the memories in the first place! I already had trouble getting him to visit, now I’ll be lucky if he ever lets me see my grandchild!”

He ladeled the mixture out of the cauldron and poured it into a glass vial, careful not to spill a drop. A faint cloud of blue smoke hung in the air around him.

“Severus! Are you even listening to me?”

“Of course.”

“Ah! Morganna you drive me insane! I can’t-- you don’t--” she huffed. “There are no words to describe how infuriated I am!”

He grabbed his wand and stoppered the glass, adding the appropriate sticker and setting it beside identical vials in a crate labeled Mungos. He then calmly turned to face the fireplace where Narcissa’s scowling likeness flared brightly from brick to brick.

“I assure you, this only helps Draco. Just because he was ignorant of the noose around his neck doesn’t mean it isn’t there. Binding the memories was the safest course of action while the investigation was in full force eight years ago. The circumstances are different now. Uncovering the nursery allows us to control the narrative. There is a workaround that will allow the Vow to become null and void. I will help Draco free himself entirely.”

Narcissa shook her head. “It’s too risky, Severus. I’m afraid for him. And for you.”

The muffled sound of a door closing drew both their attention to the back of the room. Indistinct voices could be heard on the other side of the wall.

“I have to go, Narcissa. Call me later tonight if you’d like to discuss this further.”

She sighed deeply, the flames fanning to great heights as though she were truly breathing fire.

“No, I can’t talk about this anymore. It’s making me sick.”

“I’ll send you some Pepper-Up with thistle root.”

She blinked. “I can never tell if you’re being serious or attempting humor in a firecall.”

His expression revealed nothing as another knock sounded.

“Just a moment!” he called over his shoulder, turning to face the hearth once more.

“Get some rest. I promise you, there’s nothing you should worry about tonight that wasn’t already a cause for concern.”

She sighed and shook her head. “Severus, you’re terrible at providing comfort.”

He smiled sardonically. “I won’t comfort you with lies, but I can assure you with truth.”

“Merlin. I’m going to go before you make this any worse, assuming that’s even possible.”

As the flames faded he made his way across the lab to allow the hospital courier entrance. As soon as he opened the door he fought back a grimace, recognizing the face eager to greet him from where they stood on the other side.

“Evenin’ Mister Snape! I’m here to pick up May’s wolfsbane order.”

“Yes, come in, I am finishing the last crate.”

He stalked back to his workstation quickly, hoping to avoid pointless conversation as he sealed the lid to the final box and levitated it to sit atop the others.

“It’s such a pretty lookin’ potion, ain’t it?”

Severus made notes on a piece of parchment. “If you say so.”

“Course it’s not as pretty as the baby cryin’ potion, specially since that one changes color in the glass.”

Snape blinked, looking up from his notes to stare at the courier. So much for avoiding pointless conversation.

"The anti-colic formula?”

“Er… yeah. Oh!” His enthusiastic outburst made Severus jump. “Sorry! I was just gonna mention that sparkly powder you make, the one that looks like glitter. My girlfriend uses it all the time. Mixes it in her lotion. You think it’s gonna start sparklin’ everywhere but the moment it touches her skin it turns clear.”

Severus stared at him blankly for a moment. “The simplex glistening powder?”

“That’s it!” The man shouted enthusiastically. “It’s amazing! She uses it all the time. Actually, you have any extra layin’ ‘round I can buy? I think we’re runnin’ low at the house.”

Severus tapped the quill against the counter. “The powder’s primary purpose is the treatment of oral and genital warts. I strongly discourage its use outside of an outbreak as the active ingredients can cause a rash on unaffected skin with prolonged daily use.”

The courier blinked. “Huh?”

Snape looked back down at his parchment, making notes along the margin. “I’m out of the powder.”

“Oh. Okay.”

Snape cast a shrinking and weightlessness charm on the crates before signing over their custody. The courier paused on his way out, looking over his shoulder and causing Snape to curse internally.

“Hey, you ever think bout openin’ your own shop, connected to your lab?”

Snape started cleaning up his work space. “I don’t have a sale’s mentality.”

“What’s that?”

“An ability to pretend the customer’s always right.”

The courier adjusted the crates in his arms. “Oh, well you don’t hafta. You could hire other people to sell stuff. You just stay in the lab, brewin’ away night and day like you do now.”

Severus paused and glanced up from scrubbing the counter.

“What’s your name?”

The courier shifted, taken aback by the question but recovering with a toothy grin. “Oscar.”

“Oscar,” Snape repeated slowly. “That’s a clever idea.”

They both looked bemused by the admission, though Oscar quickly preened under the praise.

“Wait there a moment,” Snape continued, making his way from behind the counter. “I’ll rummage up a jar of glistening powder from the back.”

* * *

Euphemia was once more sprawled across the chaise in the guest parlor, but this time it was of her own volition. She stared up at the vaulted ceiling, tracing the crown molding with her eyes. Her left arm and leg dangled off the edge, her bare foot and fingertips resting on the silk rug. A crystal bowl rested near her palm, half filled with ashes and butts. A cloud of smoke hovered near her head. She blinked through the haze.

“Wha- what was I saying?”

Rodolphus sighed, running a hand over his face. Euphemia was fading fast, going in and out of coherency as quickly as she went through cigarettes.

“You were telling me about the newest safe house.”

She hummed under her breath. “Oh, yeah, that…”

He bit his tongue, clenching his hands together in front of him. The desire to throttle her was strong.

“Do you know where it is?”

She rolled onto her side. “I need another cig-”

“Do you know where the safe house is located, Euphemia?”

She blinked slowly. “What? No. Of course not. Rabby never tells me the location.”

He sighed, fishing the gold case from his pocket and flipping it open. She reached over and pulled the second to last cigarette free.

“Shite. I’ve been meaning to send Fletch for more. That’s okay, I can switch to gin.”

He shut the case, tracing the cursive monogram etched into the lid. “Fletch is your only elf?”

She pushed into a sitting position with a groan. “Elves cost money, something I don’t have an abundance of at the moment.”

He raised a brow “You pay your elves wages?”

She laughed, high and melodic like bells. “Hardly! Can you even imagine? That would be like paying a bird to fly or a kneazle to hunt mice.”

“Then why do they cost you money?”

She pushed off the chaise to her feet, swaying a bit. “Well as tiny as they are they eat a surprising amount. And they still get sick from time to time. Or injured, climbing to clean something they can’t reach. Stupid little beasts. With my current standing I hardly think keeping thin and sickly elves would help my family’s reputation.”

She slowly made her way to the side of the room, holding onto furniture to keep her balance. She stopped before a tall cabinet, which opened to a selection of bottles and glasses.

“Muggles may be simple minded creatures but they certainly have their vices down to an art form. One does get tired of firewhiskey, day after day. What can I pour you? I really must recommend the London dry, it’s quite superb. Do you like juniper?”

“None for me.”

She laughed again, grabbing a glass and filling it with a clear liquid. “Merlin’s sake, don’t tell me you’re a teetotaler now. I assumed you spent the last eight years in a drunken stupor, that’s why you couldn’t be bothered to let anyone know you were alive.”

He rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Come now, have one little drink with me for old time’s sake.”

“I’d rather listen to you answer my questions.”

She rolled her eyes, taking a deep drink from her glass and leaning against the cabinet.

“Why do I have to do all the talking? I’d love to know where you’ve been all this time, what you’ve been up to.”

He looked down at his hands, allowing the silence to permeate the room before slowly getting to his feet. He made his way over to where she stood, watching him through clouded eyes.

“I wasn’t anywhere.”

He reached toward his neck, tugging on a gold chain. “I wasn’t doing anything.” He pulled a large pendant out from under his shirt. “The last eight years were a literal blur.”

The necklace dangled in front of her face. She squinted, taking a closer look. Was that a…? Her eyes widened.

“It seems like the final battle was only a few day ago. Because for me, it was.”

She looked beyond the time turner and met his dark gaze. “Holy shite.”

* * *

They stood over the crib, gazing down at the sleeping infant within. Soon after Euphemia fainted and he levitated her to the parlor het set off to explore the upstairs, transfiguring a crib and putting Delphi down for the night.

“When I saw you earlier… after I came to I thought I imagined the baby. Course I thought I imagined you, too. I should have known…”

He stepped closer to the crib, resting his hand on the railing. He heard Euphemia shift her weight behind him.

“I…” she trailed off.

He watched the baby sleep. “I know.”

She shook her head. “It’s...”

“Yeah.”

“And she’s… “

“Yes.”

“Merlin.”

He sighed. “Tell me about it.”

“I need another drink.” She darted out of the room but he was hot on her heels, catching her arm in the hall and spinning her to face him.

“No more gin, Euphemia.”

She rolled her eyes. “Fine. I’ll switch to wine.”

“No more alcohol.”

She blinked, furrowing her brow. “No more… what do you mean?”

He released her arm and stepped back. “I need your help, Fifi.”

Realization dawned in her eyes, clearing away some of the fog. “Oh no…” She staggered back. “No you don’t!”

He raised his hands but she continued to yell before he could speak.

“You don’t get to use my nickname and get whatever the fuck you want! I am not going down that road again!”

He shook his head. “I promise you this is not the same-”

“Oh you _promise me_! Lovely. Because your promises mean so much. The last time you made me a promise it royally fucked up my life, excuse me if I’m not excited to listen to your bullshite again!”

“Euphemia!” he shouted, grabbing her by the shoulders. “Calm down!”

“Don’t tell me to calm down! Why the bloody hell do men say that? Has it ever worked?”

His gaze darkened with a groan. “Look, I am sorry about what happened between you and Rab-”

“Just stop it!” She screamed, jerking out of his grip.

He cringed, glancing briefly towards the nursery. He listened for a moment but heard no mewling cry. He faced the witch trembling before him, tears streaming down her face, leaving black tracks of eyeliner and mascara across her cheeks.

“I am truly sorry about what happened,” he tried again, voice level and eyes sincere. “But that was over twenty years ago, and trust me when I say Rab spent fourteen years repenting for every sin and wrong he ever committed as he rotted away in that filthy cell.”

She squeezed her eyes shut. “I never wanted... I never wanted him to suffer. I was angry but I never hated him.”

“I know.”

He reached out and gently squeezed her arm. She shook her head with her eyes still closed but slowly leaned into him, sobbing into his shirt front. He swallowed, staring at the wall above her head with his arms hovering behind her. Slowly he embraced her, feeling her shake harder as his arms made contact. He sighed into her hair. “I know.”

She cried a few more moments before speaking in a strained voice, muffled by his chest. “He was never the same. None of you were. Azkaban broke something inside you all that never healed back the right way.”

Rodolphus blinked, at a loss for words and finding no urge to argue. She sniffled, pulling back just enough to tilt her head up and make eye contact.

“Losing you was the final straw for him. After you disappeared… he... “ she paused, taking a deep breath. “He was never the same. That small piece of him that survived Azkaban was gone, disappeared overnight... just like you.”

He swallowed, feeling a stinging sensation behind his eyes and blinking rapidly.

“Euphemia-” his voice sounded hoarse and grating to his ears. He cleared his throat and tried again. “Euphemia, I need your help.”

She stared at him in silence, eyes red and puffy but no longer swimming with tears. “You want me to honor the Vow.”

“I want you to help me, as a friend.”

She smiled with just the corner of her mouth, conveying a look of such powerful sadness it caused his chest to tighten painfully.

“Friends? I haven’t had a friend in a very long time.”

“You have one now. I need you, and you need me.”

She raised a brow. “Do I now?”

“Yes.” He spoke with confidence, grasping her arms and stepping back at arm's length. “You need money, I can provide for you and Delphi.”

She wiped at her face, smearing her makeup even more. “Oh yeah? And how do you propose to do that? I know you haven’t done much these last eight years but the Ministry’s been quite busy, seizing every knut to both our family's names.”

He sighed, having already assumed as much but hearing it aloud still stung. “I suspected as much would happen if our side lost. I set up private accounts in other countries, under different names. I just need to access the funds and I’ll be able to keep you comfortable.”

She blinked, then chuckled with a shake of her head. “Euphemia Rowle, a kept witch. Never thought I’d live to see the day a man offered to take care of me.”

He couldn’t help but smile. “You were always the heartbreaker back in school.”

“I was, wasn’t I?” She said proudly, then burst into slightly hysterical laughter. He continued to watch her, waiting for her to gain her bearings. She finally took a deep breath and straightened, wrapping her arms around her middle as though uncomfortable.

“I don’t think I should be the one to…” she looked away, staring at the ground near his feet. “I’m not the same woman I was eight years ago. I have… I do... “ she bit her lip, eyes flickering back and forth before she closed them entirely. “I drink. I take illegal potions. I hate the world. I hate myself. I shouldn’t be around a baby little less taking care of one.”

She opened her eyes, forcing her gaze upward though he knew it pained her to do so. He held her stare, nodding slowly.

“I know.”

She swallowed, her face briefly crumpling as though she may start crying again, but her expression calmed a moment later.

“I know you have your demons,” he continued. “We all do. But the fact of the matter is I have nowhere else to turn, and I can’t look after her by myself, not at this stage. I need to access my accounts and find my brother. Then we can all start over. Fresh. We can all get a second chance. I just need a bit of time. Please, help me now, Euphemia, and I can promise to make everything better for you.”

She blinked, gazing at him with her mouth parted as she processed his words.

“It’s too late to start over,” she whispered.

He shook his head. “Take it from a man who has lived half of his adult life confined to a cell. It is never too late.”

She exhaled deeply through her nose, eyes briefly closing and head dropping as she scuffed her bare foot across the hall runner. He geared up for another plea, another argument. But then she suddenly looked up, eyes alight with some humor he couldn’t begin to grasp.

“I just thought..” she started, a smirk forming at the corner of her mouth. “Of what Bella’s reaction would be if she could see us now. Me, looking after her daughter, and you, offering to take care of me…”

He shook his head, the image too painful to comprehend, as morbidly funny as it may be. Euphemia noticed the tensing of his shoulders. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have brought her up. We had our differences but it’s crass to speak ill of the dead.”

“It’s fine,” he lied, running a hand through his hair. “I get it.” He paused. “Does this mean you’ll help?”

She shrugged slightly, rolling her eyes. “What other choice do I have? Drop dead? The Vow doesn’t exactly leave me with many options.”

He couldn’t suppress a smile. “I suppose not. But if you really didn’t want to I would relieve you of the obligation.”

She nodded. “I know. You always were honorable.”

That was not a word he attributed to himself, at least not in many decades. Still, he felt grateful. A major weight had been lifted.

“Thank you, Fifi.”

She laughed, shaking her head and rubbing a hand over her eyes. “Circe, don’t call me that! It reminds me of my wasted youth.”

He started walking down the hall towards the stairs. She fell in step beside him.

“Does this mean you’ll finally join me for a drink?” He looked over at her, brow raised. “To celebrate!” she elaborated with a smile.

He smirked. “Why don’t we celebrate with giggle water?”

“Ha! As if I keep that kind of shite in the house! Giggle water is for uptight society whores and virgins.”

He nodded. “Whores and virgins only, got it.”

“Excellent. How about we just do a shot of-”

“Euphemia.”

“Oh fine! You’re such a bore.”

“We’ll need to figure out a few things before I leave. Like getting you more help around the house, elves with childcare experience preferably, and-”

“Wait!” she stopped midway down the stairs, two steps higher than him and putting them at eye level. “Leave? Already? Where are you going?”

He leaned against the heavy bannister. “I need to find Rab as soon as possible.”

“But I told you I don’t know where he stays.”

“No, but you have a means of contacting him, or at least of getting a message through to him, don’t you?”

She quickly broke his gaze, suddenly looking hesitant. He pushed forward despite her obvious discomfort.

“I know you have connections to the underground trade, that’s how you get Elysium. I don’t care about that. All I care about is finding my brother before the Ministry does. Can you help me?”

She bit her lip, hands nervously curling at her sides. He wondered what had her so anxious, contacting Rabastan or revealing her drug supplier? She finally looked back up, eyes brimming with some unknown emotion.

“Yeah, I can get a message to him.”

He sighed in relief, nodding his head and reaching out to pat her shoulder. “Thank you.”

He started down the steps once more, glancing at her over his shoulder. “He and I have a lot to catch up on.”


	15. Chapter Fifteen

**May 13, 2006**  
**Islington, London**

“Hermione, darling, you really shouldn’t give Rose plastic teething rings, it can prevent her teeth from coming in right.”

“Yes, mother, luckily they’re only her baby teeth.”

“Regardless-”

“Ron, you missed our turn!”

“What? No, I turn left at the next intersection.”

“No, you turn left back there, we’ll have to double back now.”

He groaned, flipping on the blinker with extra force, grumbling something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like _“We wouldn’t have to worry about missed turns if we’d just flooed…”_

Hermione rolled her eyes just as Rose let out a wail. She turned in her seat to see her mother pulling the pink teething ring from the baby’s grasp.

“Mum!”

“What? There are a number of alternatives you can use, sweetheart. I’ll-”

“That’s great but we don’t have anything else handy and I don’t like casting numbing charms this close to feeding her.”

“Say,” her father spoke up from the other side of the backseat, “Isn’t this near where the Pattersons live?”

“The Pattersons? No, Richard, you’re thinking of the MacGregors,” Jean replied promptly, stuffing the teething ring into her handbag with one hand and trying to comfort Rose with the other.

“What? No, the MacGregors live in Shoreditch. The Pattersons live near here.”

“No, no, Drew and Lois live in Hampstead. We don’t know anyone who lives in Shoreditch.”

Hermione took a deep breath and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“No, I’m certain they live in Shoreditch-”

“And I’m certain they don’t!”

“Wait,” Ron interrupted, “I can’t turn left, it’s a one way.”

“Shite,” Hermione sighed, “Gimme a sec.” She pulled up the GPS on her phone, “And mum, please give Rose her teething ring back.”

“But sweetheart, I really think-”

“Wait!” her dad shouted over Rose’s shrill wails, “I remember now! Tom and Barb Calvin live around here!”

“No they don’t, Richard! And Tom’s wife’s name is Margery. Barbara is Mark’s wife. Well, his ex-wife-”

Hermione shook her head while enlarging the map on the screen and holding it out to Ron.

“I can’t read that and drive, Mione. I can barely dial a number on the thing. Just tell me which way to turn.”

“You always get mad when I give you directions from the passenger seat.”

“I do not get mad. I get frustrated when you criticize my every move-”

“I do not criticize your-”

“But it doesn’t matter now as we’re already lost and-”

“We aren’t lost, we just took a wrong turn!”

“Richard, I promise you we don’t know anyone who lives out here.”

“I remember coming this way during the winter, for a holiday party at someone’s house-”

“Bloody hell you’re off your rocker, we haven’t been to a party at someone’s house in-”

“Mum would you please give her back her ring!”

“Mione was I supposed to make that turn?”

“What? Oh crap, yes-”

“Will you please pay attention and tell me which way to go!”

“Don’t yell, you’re upsetting Rose!”

“I’m not the reason she’s crying! Her teeth hurt!”

“Well your shouting certainly isn’t helping! Mum, dammit! Will you please give it back to her?”

“Hermione Jean don’t you use that tone with me!”

“Mione, pay attention!”

* * *

Twenty minutes later they stood outside their destination, Ron holding Rose’s carrier and Hermione balancing a large pie tray in one hand, pushing loose curls out of her eyes with the other. Her parents stood behind them, matching looks of awe on their faces.

“Mione, love, will the house collapse back in on itself after we go inside?”

Despite her lingering frustration from the car ride she couldn’t help but smile over her shoulder.

“No, dad, we won’t be crushed.”

“But technically yes, it smushes back together to keep hidden from muggles.” Ron said, adjusting the headband Rose pulled over her eyes. Hermione shot him a frustrated look that he didn’t see or chose to ignore.

“It’s just an illusion. Don’t worry, it’s perfectly safe, dad.” She punctuated her words by gently squeezing his arm. He smiled warmly though his eyes still looked hesitant.

She spun around when the door opened.

“Oh good!” Ginny beamed. “I was worried the wards wouldn’t let you through! Come in!”

She moved aside and Hermione stepped through first, leaning in to hug her friend with one arm before handing over the pie tray.

“Sorry we’re late, Gin! We got a bit turned around, we’re not used to driving here. But we come bearing food.”

Ginny pulled out her wand and levitated the pie out of the room, likely to the kitchen. “Thanks! And no worries, I’ve been running around like a loon trying to get dinner together so you’re right on time actually. Oh, Jean and Richard, it’s so good to see you again!”

Hermione moved aside so her parents could step fully inside and greet their hostess. Ron briefly kissed the top of his sister’s head in greeting before disappearing down the hall with Rose in tow.

“How can we help you, my dear? Please, put me to work so I don’t strangle my husband before we sit down to eat.”

Ginny laughed and Hermione rolled her eyes. “Mum-”

“I take no offense,” Richard said, leaning in to kiss his wife’s cheek. “Trial separation and threats of violence make the heart grow fonder.”

“You two are absolute couple goals,” Ginny said with a smile. “I-”

“Richard, Jean! It’s so great to see you!” Harry’s voice boomed from the hallway. He came striding in, barefoot and hair pulled back in his signature man bun. Hermione smiled as he hugged both her parents with genuine warmth and familiarity.

“This is quite the place you have here, young man.”

“Yeah, it’s something alright.”

“And very private, something you must appreciate given your notoriety.”

Harry rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly fourteen years old and awkwardly skirting the topic of his fame. Hermione bit back a laugh.

“Yeah, it’s private, but a bit too gloomy for me and Gin. We lived here after school but once we got married we decided to buy a house that we could really make our own. We mostly use this place for hosting, the dining room and kitchen are double the size of what we have at home.”

“Ah, I see,” Jean said, peering around the room. “Well it’s absolutely lovely.”

“Wait until you meet some of the portraits,” Ginny chimed in, wrapping her arms around Harry’s waist.

Hermione’s parents gave them a curious look and suddenly Harry’s eyes lit up. “Oh! Why don’t I give you a tour?”

Hermione opened her mouth to protest but Harry cut her off. “Don’t worry, we have Walburga silenced and covered.”

Jean blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“It’s a long story,” Hermione said, “You sure you don’t mind, Harry?”

“Are you kidding? I’d love to! And we can swing by the nursery upstairs, let you meet Albus.”

“Oh that sounds fabulous!” Jean beamed, grabbing Richard’s hand and following Harry up the stairs.

Ginny turned to Hermione. “Don’t worry, we removed all the dark and creepy shite ages ago. Come on,” she grabbed Hermione’s hand, pulling her in the direction of the kitchen. “You can help me get the rest of the crap plated.”

* * *

“So, I hear congratulations are in order.”

Hermione looked up the from the saucepan she was stirring. “Huh?”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “Your new job with the DMLE.”

“Oh, yeah. Right. Thanks.”

Ginny raised a brow, grabbing a pile of plates from the cupboard. “Okay, spill.”

Hermione bit the inside of her cheek, seeing no point in playing dumb as Ginny had a sixth sense about Hermione’s distress, a trait she shared with her husband.

“I haven’t really felt like celebrating.”

Ginny cast a quick glance around the room before moving closer to Hermione.

“Because of Ron?” she whispered.

Hermione blinked, Ginny’s bluntness still taking her off guard at times. “Well it’s… I mean, he…” she paused, taking a deep breath and setting the wooden spoon aside. “Yeah.”

Ginny sighed lightly and nodded. “I figured. When Harry told me the news I knew it would upset him.”

Hermione felt her shoulders droop. “I did, too, which is why I never told him about my transfer request. It was wrong of me. I should have been open and honest about everything from day one.”

Ginny moved back to the counter and started plating food. “Yeah, probably. There’s a lot of shite we probably shoulda done, but we’re human and make mistakes. Is he still pissed about it?”

“He isn’t as angry. We still haven’t really talked about it, though.”

“What?”

Hermione cringed. “It’s just… I don’t know, I’m afraid to bring it up and he refuses to mention anything regarding work, I feel like he wants to avoid the topic altogether and I’m inclined to let him.”

“So what, you’re just never going to talk about your job in front of him again? That sounds real feasible.”

Hermione sighed, flicking her wand to keep the spoon stirring at regular intervals. “I don’t know, Gin, it’s only been a week, I haven’t really given it much thought. I haven’t had time. Between everything I’ve got going on at the Ministry and then taking care of Rose at home it’s been pretty easy to avoid the subject.”

“Avoid the subject or avoid Ron?”

Hermione blinked, stilling her movements, She slowly looked up and made eye contact with her friend. Ginny’s light blue eyes held a knowing look that stole Hermione’s automatic denial.

“I…”

“I can tell something’s been off with you guys lately. Before the news of the transfer.”

Hermione looked away, busying herself with wiping down the already clean counter. “It’s nothing.”

Ginny walked up behind her, placing a hand on her shoulder. “Mione, I know I’m Ron’s sister but I’m your sister too. You can tell me anything, I won’t tell a soul.”

Hermione gave a short laugh. “You and Harry don’t keep any secrets from each other.”

Ginny rolled her eyes. “I can keep a secret from Harry if I had to-”

“No!” Hermione turned to face her. “You shouldn’t keep anything from him, Gin, not ever. I-”

“Something smells good.”

Both women jumped and spun around.

“Whoa,” Ron said with a short laugh. “You two look guilty. Were you talking about me?” He smiled, reaching over to the nearest plate to steal a piece of food.

“Ron, don’t touch that!” Ginny yelled, marching over and slapping at his hand.

“Merlin, Gin! Calm down, we’re about to eat soon anyway!”

“Exactly, so keep your paws off the food until we all sit down!”

Hermione sighed, turning back to the stove as the siblings continued to bicker back and forth. Despite their argument the love between them was palpable. Ginny and Ron had always shared a special bond, going back as far as Hermione knew them. She remembered the fond way Ron had spoken about his younger sister in his first year, before the girl was even enrolled.

Hermione couldn’t bring herself to share her marital problems with Ginny, no matter how many times her friend promised to be a neutral sounding board. It wasn’t fair to drag her in, to put her in an untenable position between her brother and best friend. And to make her feel as though she needed to keep secrets from Harry… Hermione couldn't forgive herself for driving a wedge into their marriage. And worse yet, if Ginny told Harry it would only make the situation more unbearable. The bond between Harry, Ron and herself was as vital as breathing and she couldn’t live with herself if she were to fracture it.

No, Hermione would work through this on her own. She had trouble defining exactly what the problem was, but something Ginny said struck a chord. She had been feeling the tension between her and Ron before the news of her transfer came to light. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly when the feeling began, or what the source could possibly be, but the wedge between them had never been more apparent than it was now.

_I’ll fix it. Every problem has a solution, some are just harder to find than others. But I have to figure this out, if not for the sake of our marriage then for Rose. I don’t want her to grow up to remember the fighting and tension._

She was pulled from her thoughts by a strange sound from the connecting room.

“Is that the Floo?” Ron asked, chewing on whatever food he had swiped while Ginny had her back turned.

“That’ll be Andy and Teddy,” Ginny said, wiping her hands on a towel and heading out to greet her new guests. Hermione smiled and followed.

“Edward, turn your hair back this instant! I already told you-”

“Nice, Teddy, I was thinking of painting the nursery that color.”

Andromeda looked up from the green haired boy she had been addressing. “Don’t encourage him, Ginevra.”

“I think it’s good for him to exercise his abilities, he’ll be a master of disguise by the time he starts Hogwarts.”

Andromeda rolled her eyes even as she hugged the young woman. Her grey eyes widened as she looked over the redhead’s shoulder.

“Hermione? My dear, it’s so good to see you!”

Hermione beamed, opening her arms as she approached the two women.

“It’s been way too long,” she said as they embraced. As soon as they parted she leaned down to hug Teddy.

“Teddy! You’ve grown at least a foot since I saw you last month! At this rate you’re going to be ten feet tall by Christmas.”

He laughed, shaking free of her grasp. “Really? That would be so awesome!”

Andromeda rolled her eyes. “Don’t give him anymore ideas, Hermione. Morgana knows he’ll find a way to sprout another dozen feet if he gets it in his mind.”

Hermione ran her fingers through his shaggy hair, smiling as the strands shifted from a deep sea green to turquoise blue before her eyes. “Wow, that’s incredible.”

Andromeda sighed but her smile bellied any frustration she tried to exhibit. She wrapped an arm around her grandson. “Just as talented as his mum.”

She dropped a quick kiss to his head. “Nana, don’t!” All three women laughed as he dramatically ducked out of her reach.

“Is that my godson I hear causing trouble?”

“Uncle Harry!” Teddy took off like an arrow, jumping into Harry’s arms before the man was even fully in the room. He chuckled as he lifted the boy off the ground in a hug.

“What’s all this ruckus?” A male voice asked from down the hall.

“Uncle Ron!” Teddy wriggled free of Harry and darted behind him.

“What am I, chopped liver?”

“Welcome to my world, Harry,” Andromeda said as she removed her traveling cloak.

“Uncle Ron, did you bring me anything?”

“Teddy!” His grandmother chided, “Don’t be rude!”

“Sorry, Nana!” he called back, then turned back to Ron. “Did you bring me anything, please?”

Hermione and Ginny laughed as Andromeda rolled her eyes. Harry walked up behind the boy and placed hands on his shoulders. “Teddy, we didn’t tell Aunt Mione and Uncle Ron you were coming-”

“Nonsense!” Ron said, fishing something out of his trouser pocket. “I never leave home without at least one good prank hidden away.”

“Excuse me?” Hermione asked, peering down the hall at her husband.

“I’m just kidding, love!” He shouted, then leaned down and whispered to Teddy loud enough for everyone to hear. “I never leave home without at least two good pranks, in case the first one isn’t enough.”

Teddy laughed and bounced in excitement, eyes fixed on whatever Ron kept hidden between his palms.

“Now don’t let your grandmother see this-”

“What was that, now?” Andromeda asked.

“Er, nothing!” Ron called back, slipping whatever the item was to Teddy who promptly shoved it in his pocket.

“Ron, please tell me you aren’t giving my godson illegal contraband.”

Ron rolled his eyes, then smiled down at Teddy and ruffled his blue hair. “We don’t sell contraband at the shop, Harry.”

“I know. You keep it in the back room.”

Ron shrugged and started whistling, making his way back to the kitchen at a leisurely pace.

“Ronald, stay away from the food!” Ginny shouted, pushing past Hermione to chase her now running brother down the hall.

* * *

“Where’s Rose?” Hermione asked as she set a steaming bowl in the center of the large table.

“Taking a nap with Al, your mum is upstairs with them.”

“Well can you go tell her dinner is ready?”

“Why don’t you send your patronus?” He asked, preoccupied by the sports section of the Prophet held in hands.

Hermione sighed. “It frightens her.”

Ron blinked, looking up. “She’s afraid of otters?”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “No, Ron, she’s not afraid of otters. She’s afraid of semi-transparent apparitions that move through walls and speak in her daughter’s voice. It’s not an everyday occurence in the muggle world.”

“Merlin, I get it, no need to jump down my throat.”

“I wasn’t-”

“I want to sit next to Uncle Harry!” Teddy shouted as he bound into the room, a toy dragon tucked under his arm.

“Slow down, Teddy,” Hermione said with a laugh. “Uncle Harry sits at the head of the table so pick either of chairs on this end.” She gestured to one side. “ _After_ you wash your hands.”

The boy groaned, his hair quickly turning purple from roots to tips as he dragged his feet out of the room. Hermione turned to Ron who was still seated and reading the paper. She sighed and opened her mouth but before she could speak her father walked into the room with a curious expression.

“Everything okay, dad?”

He looked up at her with a smile. “Oh, splendid, sweetheart! I just can’t over those talking portraits.”

Hermione straightened to attention. “Talking portraits? Which ones did you meet? Were they rude?”

He laughed. “Goodness sake, you look terrified, Mione! Didn’t they have talking pictures at Hogwarts?”

She nodded. “Of course they did, but the portraits at school were mostly historical figures. The ones found in households are usually deceased family members…” she paused and looked to Ron for help in explaining but found her husband deeply consumed with Quidditch scores. “Well, some families are a bit, err… off.”

Her dad rose a graying brow. “Off?”

“Uh, yeah, I mean… old fashioned, traditional… prejudice.”

She shifted awkwardly on her feet as her father cast a suddenly worried look. “Why would those kind of portraits be in Harry’s house?”

“What kind of portraits?” Ginny asked, turning the corner into the room with a large covered plate in her hands.

“Nevermind!” Hermione said quickly. “Dad, would you mind telling mum that dinner is ready? She’s in the nursery.”

He blinked, clearly wanting to ask more questions but detecting his daughter’s distress and deciding to revisit the topic later.

“Gin,” Hermione turned her attention to the other woman, “Where do you want to put the high chairs?”

“Oh don’t worry, Mione, I’ll let the boys grab them. Ron!” she shouted, slapping her brother upside the head.

“Oi!” he yelled in outrage. Hermione covered her mouth to hold in laughter.

“Go help Harry bring in the high chairs. And don’t put James next to Teddy, I don’t feel like cleaning potatoes off the crown molding again.”

“In a second, Gin, I’m in the middle of-”

“Now, Ron!”

“Merlin’s hairy balls, alright!”

“Circe’s saggy tits, get a move on!”

Hermione sighed. It was moments like this that made her terrified to hear Rose’s first words. James was already repeating an array of curses that made Hermione cringe, though Harry and Ginny seemed to think it hilarious. That is until he had a colorful outburst in public, in which case they were both mortified and insisted they had no idea where he heard such phrases.

Half an hour later everyone was seated at the long table, forks in hand and plates piled high with food. The room was filled with conversation and children’s laughter. Hermione couldn’t remember the last time she felt so content.

“Richard, Jean, how long are you in town for?” Harry asked as he poured himself more wine, smirking as his wife held out her empty glass without a glance in his direction.

“Just until Wednesday, that’s when Richard has his overnight observation at the hospital.”

“Which is utter nonsense, if you ask me,” he grumbled under his breath, though everyone at the table clearly heard. Hermione shifted in her seat, focusing on the plate in front of her. Harry glanced in her direction, opening his mouth to change the subject but Andromeda spoke first.

“Are you no longer suffering side effects of the memory restoration?”

“I’m fine,” he said, even as his wife shook her head beside him.

“He had a bout of amnesia two days ago-”

“That wasn’t a side effect of the procedure, it was a side effect of being an old man!”

Jean rolled her eyes and glanced to her daughter for help. Hermione was sipping at her wine but upon seeing both her parent’s looks of frustration set down her glass and cleared her throat.

“Whatever is the cause of the episodes, they’ve become far less frequent which is a good sign. The overnight observations are just to ensure nothing new has cropped up.”

“Waste of time and resources is what they are.”

“Richard, you wandered into the neighbor’s house and asked to rent a room! I hardly think the check ups are a waste.”

“I was sleepwalking.”

“At two in the afternoon?”

“I was taking a nap.”

Jean rolled her eyes. “He’s utterly hopeless.”

“Ginny,” Andromeda spoke up, clearly detecting the tension in the room, “How is it going back to work?”

Ginny swallowed whatever large bite she’d been chewing and sighed dramatically. “Utterly horrid.”

Harry smirked behind his wine glass.

“I mean don’t get me wrong,” she added, oblivious to her husband’s expression, “I missed my team, and I missed the game, but not nearly as much as I miss my boys. This idiot excluded.” She jerked a thumb at Harry, perhaps not as oblivious to his mocking as he thought.

“Have you had trouble finding a reliable sitter?”

“Nah, we lucked out with Melly. Thanks to Mione,” Harry said, reaching out under the table to rub his wife’s thigh in apology. She smirked and stuck her tongue out.

“I’m so glad Melinda worked out for you. I hated having to let her go, she was so good with Rose.”

“Why’d you let her go?” Andromeda asked.

“We didn’t need her anymore, after Ron started working at the shop and could set his own hours.”

“Oh that’s right, how is that going, Ron?”

Hermione once more hid behind her wine glass. There was no telling how Ron would react to the innocent question. Whenever she mentioned the topic of work at home he either blew up like a powder keg or stormed off in silence. She knew he’d have neither extreme reaction in public, but he wasn’t skilled at hiding his emotions either. Her fingertips turned white as she squeezed the stem of her glass, studiously avoiding looking in her husband’s direction as he spoke.

“It’s going great, we’re doing so well we’re opening a fourth location later this year.”

Hermione blinked, taken aback by his pleasant and casual-sounding response.

“That’s fantastic!” A general chorus of delight went around the table, minus Hermione who still sat rigidly. Ron’s eyes fell on her, his expression turning suddenly hard. She swallowed, giving a minute shake of her head. A grimace flashed over his face, so quickly that she wondered if she’d only imagined it. No one else seemed to notice anything amiss, eating and drinking as merrily as before.

“Course,” Ron continued to address the entire table though his eyes were fixed on Hermione, “I still miss the good ole’ days, working alongside my best mate. We had some good times.”

Harry laughed, wiping his mouth with the napkin. “I don’t know if I’d summarize the entire experience as good, considering the nature of our work. How many times were you stabbed on the job?”

“Oh, I can’t even imagine!” Jean gasped, oblivious to her daughter and son-in-law’s stare down.

“It wasn’t that bad, considering our job was to protect society from the dark witches and wizards meaning to do them harm. Better one of us takes the knife or dark curse than some innocent bystander.”

“Spoken like a true soldier,” Richard said with a nod in both mens’ direction. Harry smiled and glanced at Ron, his grin falling slightly when he noticed his friends’ hard expressions. He glanced at his wife who rose a questioning brow. He casually tipped his head in their direction and she followed with her eyes, shoulders tensing when her gaze fell upon them.

“How have you been, Andy?” Ginny quickly asked.

Andromeda blinked, seemingly caught off guard by the change in topic but smiling pleasantly nonetheless. “I’m doing quite well. Been plenty busy now that school is out for the summer.”

“Are you a teacher?” Jean asked.

Andromeda shook her head. “No, but I’m the sole guardian of my grandson so summer breaks are quite the adventure.”

“I love summer!” Teddy shouted suddenly, spitting potatoes onto the white linen.

“Edward Lupin, do not speak with your mouth full!”

“Sorry Nana,” he said with a wide smile, spitting more food.

She sighed and looked back to Jean. “I can’t wait for Hogwarts.”

The other woman smiled and shook her head. “You say that now, but the moment he boards the train you’ll be counting the minutes until summer.”

Andromeda looked back to Teddy, running a hand fondly over his fuschia hair. “I know you’re right.”

“Letting this one disappear off to Hogwarts every year was the hardest thing we’ve ever had to do.” Jean said with a loving glance across the table at her daughter. Hermione smiled and reached out.

“I already dread saying goodbye to Rose,” she said as she grasped her mother’s hand.

“I can’t imagine sending the boys away for that long every year,” Ginny agreed.

Harry rolled his eyes. “I can, quite vividly in fact.”

“Harry James Potter, you’ll be a sobbing mess when you send James off, I imagine you’ll be inconsolable when they’re both in school.”

Harry glanced at the high chairs on either side of him and Ginny. “I’ll be just fine.”

Hermione rolled her eyes, about to protest before he continued. “Because I plan to wear my invisibility cloak and follow them there.”

Ginny glared at him. “That was already my plan, and we both can’t fit. You’ll have to think of something else.”

“That’s quite ingenious, Harry,” Andromeda spoke from a few chairs away, “Perhaps I can borrow it first and test out the plan?”

Everyone around the table laughed, except for Teddy who crossed his arms and looked quite serious. “You can’t follow me to school, Nana!”

“Oh, I most certainly can, young man. How else am I supposed to keep an eye on you and make sure you don’t get into trouble?”

“I’m not going to get into trouble, I’m going to go on adventures! Just like Uncle Harry and Uncle Ron and Auntie Mione!”

There was a long awkward silence following his words. Then every adult at the table burst into laughter.

“Is this what we have to look forward to when the kids are older?” Hermione asked.

Ginny shook her head. ‘Good going, you three. There’ll be no disciplining them now.”

Harry sighed, grabbing his glass once more. “I suppose that’s what we get, skirting the rules as often as we did.”

“We only broke the rules to help people!”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “Semantics, Ron. I doubt the kids will care about our reasoning when they find out we broke into a secret chamber under the school and battled a series of deadly obstacles all to nearly be murdered by a possessed professor in our first year.”

Ginny snickered and elbowed her brother, causing Hermione to smile until she heard her mother clear her throat across the table. Looking over she quickly sat up straight in her chair, both her parents pinning her with looks of fear and bewilderment.

“I’m sorry, Hermione, what did you just say?”

She glanced quickly to her friends and husband, all hiding behind their glasses and napkins to hide their laughter.

“Um… Didn’t I tell you about-”

“No, you didn’t.”

Hermione tried to smile but failed upon meeting her father’s piercing gaze.

“Er, well,” she took a deep breath,”See, in first year…”

* * *

**May 13, 2006**  
**Greenwich, London**

“Some help you were tonight,” Hermione hissed under her breath, removing her earrings and setting them inside her jewelry tray.

“What did I do?” Ron asked, sitting on the edge of the bed to remove his shoes.

“You just sat there while I was interrogated by my parents.”

He rolled his eyes. “Is it my fault you didn’t tell them about anything that happened at school?”

She clenched her fists at her side, storming over to the closet. “I told them about school, Ronald! I told them about my lessons and teachers and friends. I just left out the parts that would cause them to pull me from Hogwarts in the blink of an eye!”

“Funny, I told my parents everything.”

She pulled at the buttons on her blouse so hard two popped off. “How many times must we discuss this? My parents have a very different relationship to magic than yours do! It was hard enough convincing them to let me go to Hogwarts!”

Ron rolled his eyes and threw his hands up. “I know, Mione, Merlin I know! I spent two hours getting lectured by your father on the shortcomings of teeth cleaning charms last Christmas.”

Hermione spun on her heel, hair crackling with pent up rage. “Oh, as opposed to _your_ father who is so easily astounded by everyday muggle commodities? Or maybe your _mother_ who lectured me on getting Rose vaccinated-”

“Don’t you talk about my mother! She’s raised seven children to perfect health, you could stand to take a little advice from her! Magical medicine is far superior to-”

“Are you kidding me?”

“At least we don’t jam our babies with needles before they’re old enough to walk!”

Hermione scoffed loudly. “Oh, yes, Ron, I’m just amazed at how advanced magical medicine is! Tell me, how many cases of infant measles does Mungo’s treat every year? It’s so common there’s six different variations of it! For Christ's sake, wizards didn’t even use penicillin until the late 60’s, nearly fifty years after it was discovered! By muggles!”

Ron stood up, a sock on one foot and the other clenched tightly in his fist.

“Well if muggle medicine is so amazing, why don’t we take Rose to one of your doctors to be treated? Hm? I mean, if they’re so wise and advanced then _surely_ they’ll know how to cure her, and you for that matter. Tell me, Mione, why didn’t you get treated at one of your muggle hospitals after your attack at the Ministry?”

She scoffed loudly. “Don’t be purposely obtuse, Ron, you know I can’t stand it.”

“Oh yes, I’m being an idiot, I’m _always_ being an idiot. Poor Mione, married to someone so very far below her intellect. It must be painful for you to have to dumb yourself down for me everytime-”

“That isn’t what I said, I have _never_ said that!”

“Oh, would you like an award for putting up with me?”

She groaned and threw her arms up in the air. “I hate it when you do that! You change the subject so we’re no longer even on the topic of our original disagreement!”

“Sorry if I lose track, as we’re always fighting all the time!”

“Well perhaps if you did less to piss me off we wouldn’t be fighting every night!”

“What the hell did I do, Mione? I didn’t jump to your defense tonight with your parents? They were hardly yelling at you! In fact they barely spoke a word the second half of the evening! I tried to lighten the mood with jokes-”

“Oh yes, your infamous ‘A Boggart and werewolf walk into a pub’ joke, as offensive as it is unfunny!”

“What? That joke kills every time I tell it, and it’s hardly offensive! You’ve got such a stick up your arse about everything even minorly relating to your stupid creatures-”

”Stupid creatures? Yes, not offense at all, Ron. And how are werewolves minorly related to my job when I’ve spent my entire career fighting for their rights?”

“Well that’s not your job anymore, is it?”

The beat of silence that followed was as deafening as it was tense. Hermione sucked in a gulp of air, realizing just how close they were standing, screaming into each other's faces. She took a shaky step back, forcing her clenched fists to relax at her sides.

“Well there it is, the heart of the matter. I’ve been waiting all week for you to bring it up. I should have expected you to throw it in my face during a totally unrelated argument.”

Now he scoffed. “I’m sorry if my wife’s betrayal has me a little on edge lately.”

“Betrayal? How on earth can you-”

A soft rapping sounded on the bedroom door to their side. They both spun around, the interruption taking them off guard.

“Hermione, luv? It’s mum. Is everything alright?” Her mother’s soft voice was further muffled behind the wood.

Hermione groaned, running a hand through her curls. “Shite, we didn’t cast a silencing charm.”

Ron sighed and shook his head, storming off to the master bath and slamming the door behind him. Hermione rubbed at her temples. Ron always stormed away in a fit when he couldn’t get her to roll over on an argument. She was frustrated beyond belief and had half a mind to charge after him but her mother’s knocking grew more insistent. She heard her father call down the hall and reluctantly went to open the door. Her mother’s worried expression met her on the other side.

“Hermione, what’s wrong? We heard yelling.”

She shook her head. “Sorry mum, we had the telly on too loud-”

“Don’t insult me, I know my own daughter’s voice.”

She slumped in defeat against the doorway. She was about to tell her mother everything was fine, to please go back to the guest room and let her focus on her marital woes alone. But the prospect of shutting herself away into the bedroom with Ron and the unsettled fight sounded unbearable. She quickly ushered her mother to step back as she emerged from the bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

“Talk downstairs?”

“Of course, luv. I just checked in on Rosie, she’s sound asleep. Why don’t I make some cocoa?”

Hermione smiled warmly, nodding to her mother. “You always know how to cheer me up, mum.”

* * *

“I do hope Richard and my visiting hasn’t caused any distress.”

“Absolutely not!” Hermione said quickly. “We both love it when you visit.”

Jean gave her daughter a somewhat sardonic look but quickly hid the expression behind her mug. Hermione deflated a bit, resting her elbows on the counter in a complete lack of etiquette she knew her mother would ignore given the mood in the kitchen.

“It’s really not you, mum, I promise.”

“I know Ron gets a bit frustrated with us, given our unfamiliarity with the magic that makes up so much of your everyday lives.”

Hermione rolled her eyes. “That’s his problem. And it’s good for him to learn to do a few things the muggle way, given that the world’s mostly populated with them.”

“We shouldn’t have made a fuss about the floo machine.”

Hermione wasn’t able to choke back her laugh in time. Jean looked to her in confusion and Hermione shook her head with a smile.

“It’s just called the floo. But that’s fine, mum. I was terrified of using it the first few times, and even now I prefer apparating,” she stopped short, catching herself before drifting too far off subject. “It doesn’t matter, like I said it’s good for Ron to drive a car the normal way every now and then so he doesn’t forget. And besides, it’s my fault you and daddy have a general distrust in magic.”

Her mother quickly reached across the breakfast bar and took her daughter’s hand. “That is completely untrue, Hermione. We do not distrust magic, we could never distrust anything that makes you who you are. We are so very proud of everything you’ve accomplished, please don’t think for a second otherwise.”

Hermione focused on their intertwined fingers as she swallowed. “I just, I’m so sorry for what I did to you. I was trying to protect you, but I shouldn’t have- I mean, I didn’t know what else to do and our time was so limited, I just wanted to protect you both so badly and was so scared and desperate. But it was wrong to obliviate you without your permission or understanding, and now daddy is still suffering years later-”

“Hermione, look at me.”

She waited until her daughter hesitantly met her eyes.

“Your father and I forgave you the moment we had our memories restored. We love you, and would have done anything to protect you if our roles were switched. We understand why you did it. Our only frustration is that we were helpless to protect our child when she needed us the most.”

Hermione nodded. Being a mother gave her a new perspective on the entire situation she didn’t have in her teens when the war raged on, when she performed the spell to modify her parents’ memories. She would lay down her life for Rose and the thought of someone, anything, threatening her daughter’s safety made her sick to her stomach. Literally, Hermione felt a pang at the mere notion and unconsciously brought a hand to her abdomen. Her mother caught the movement.

“Are you alright, darling?”

Hermione blinked, trying to shake the strange sensation of fear and panic that settled around her at the thought of Rose being in peril and Hermione rendered helpless to protect her.

“Yeah, sorry, my mind just wondered.”

Jean nodded, briefly glancing upward where the master bedroom sat a floor above, mistaking her daughter’s conflicted look for marital woes.

“Do you want to talk about what happened between you and Ron tonight?”

Hermione felt a tension across her shoulders, the muscles tightening reflexively. She was still caught up in a strange vortex of fear for her daughter, which made no sense since her baby was safe upstairs. But she was overcome with the need to check on her.

“You said you looked in on Rose?”

Jean blinked, caught off guard by the sudden change of topic. “Yes, she was sound asleep.”

Hermione nodded even as she slid out of her seat. Her mother’s brows knitted together, watching her daughter sway on her feet.

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” she said, her voice a bit breathy to her own ears. She shook her head, steadying herself on the table while looking towards the stairs. “I just need to see her.”

“Alright, I’ll go with you- Hermione, are you okay?” she caught her daughter’s arm as she stumbled forward.

“Yes, I just need to see Rose.”

“You look pale, I think you’re ill. Sit down for a moment-”

“No! I need to check on Rose!”

Jean was becoming worried by her daughter’s obvious panic. “I’ll check on Rose, alright? Please sit down.” She tried pushing Hermione back towards the chair but her daughter shook her head, adamant about getting upstairs to the nursery.

“I need to see her, I just need to see her.”

Hermione had turned white, her skin covered in a fine sheen of sweat. Jean held her tightly, eyes darting between her daughter’s waxen complexion and the ceiling, obviously debating whether to call for assistance. Hermione forced herself to take a deep breath, looking at her mother with dilated pupils. “It’s okay, mum, I’m fine. I just need to-”

“See Rose, yes, dear, I heard you.” Jean sounded worried, which only served to panic Hermione further despite the fact it was her own behavior causing the other woman’s distress.

“Please sit down and I’ll bring the baby to you.” Hermione opened her mouth to protest but suddenly felt very light headed. The stairs seemed to blur, along with the room around her. She nodded reluctantly, feeling very weak. “Okay, but please hurry.”

Jean ushered her into the chair and then hovered for a moment, braced to restrain any renewed attempts to stand. Hermione merely slumped into the counter, settling her weight against it and allowing the cool surface to cool her burning skin. Finally she felt more than heard her mother’s sigh before reluctantly backing away towards the stairs, still watching Hermione the entire way up.

Once alone Hermione brushed a hand across her forehead, staring at her damp palm in confusion. Did she have a fever? The symptoms had come on so quickly. She felt so light headed, so removed from her body. So strange.

Suddenly a powerful wave of nausea overcame her and she struggled to her feet, bracing her weight against furniture until she made it to the sink, gagging once, twice, and then spewing her dinner into the large basin. She cringed, tearing a paper towel free and dabbing at her mouth. She turned on the faucet, rinsing the mess down the drain before splashing her face with cool water. The dizziness had abated some in light of her sickness.

Maybe she had food poisoning. She tried to think of what she had eaten that neither Ron or her parent’s partook, but nearly laughed at the idea. Ron sampled everything except the plates and utensils. If she had eaten something rotten it was guaranteed her husband would have as well.

She strained to listen for sounds upstairs, of either Ron emptying his stomach into the toilet or her mother fetching Rose. Instead she head soft whispering from the direction of the guest bedroom. She cringed. Her mother was no doubt fetching her father instead. They’d both appear downstairs any minute now to check on her, faces marred with concern and worry. She was so tired of seeing those expressions, the worry in their eyes. She’d been battling the guilt of causing them such distress since she was eleven.

But she couldn’t focus on them right now. She didn’t have time to abate their worry and assure them she was fine, just a bit ill. The overwhelming need to see Rose, to hold her daughter in her arms and feel the warmth of her skin and sound of her soft breath was a necessity. She didn’t stop to ponder the urge, she simply accepted it as a mother’s primal need and started for the stairs.

She was halfway up, weight braced against the bannister, when the pain struck. Fire across her middle, a familiar and yet terrifying sensation. She doubled over, arms over her stomach to put pressure on the blistering sting, which only served to increase the need to vomit on the carpeted steps. Her vision blurred again but she couldn’t tell if was due to vertigo or the tears welling in her eyes. She pushed forward, biting her tongue against the urge to scream until she tasted coppery blood inside her mouth and down the back of her throat. But the pain became too much, too unbearable, and she collapsed on the landing, curled into the fetal position with her mouth agape in silent misery.

Her mind betrayed her as her senses became overwhelmed with pain. She was no longer curled up on the floor in her safe suburban home, pajamas and robe askew. She was no longer a grown adult with a baby and husband only feet away.

She was a teenager, covered in dirt and grime and blood, convulsing on the marble floor of an opulent drawing room in a mansion filed with death and terror. She was at the mercy of a madwoman with a bloodied dagger and shrill, piercing laugh. She could see the glint of the blade, a centimeter from her eye where it threatened to blind her. She could smell the foul breath and feel the weight upon her ribcage as the evil witch straddled her, whispering depraved nightmares in her ear.

Her fists open and closed, arm reaching out towards the roaring fire of the massive marble hearth, no, down the hall to where her baby slept… where Rose slept… she could hear her crying, it sounded far away, so far away… she needed to get to her.

She tried to turn over onto her knees, to crawl to the nursery, but her muscles twitched and convulsed, her abdomen a massive open wound with her guts spilling free. She looked beneath her, trying to scoop up her insides that were surely pouring out, but saw nothing but pristine cream carpeting. She blinked, the carpet turned to marble. Cold, unforgiving marble. She shook her head, telling herself it wasn’t real… But the baby’s cries, those was real. Rose needed her, she clung to the notion to keep herself anchored to reality.

Suddenly a body appeared in the hallway ahead of her. She blinked against the blurriness of the figure, ran a hand over her face to clear her line of sight, but they were formless, merely a dark streak cutting towards her. The voice emitting from the figure sounded muffled and strange to her ears. As they ran to her their robe trailed behind them, lengthening before her eyes, turning an inky black. As if on cue the empty face transformed into a white mask of death. She shrank away from the hands that reached for her, slapped and screamed, the shrill laughter of Bellatrix filling the hallway, deafening except for the shrill scream of a baby.

But suddenly she didn’t recognize the cries. Her blood ran cold as she realized the wails no longer belonged to her daughter, born years and years in the future to adult Hermione. Eighteen year old Hermione struggled with her assailants on the floor, pain radiating from every pore, too terrified and exhausted to do more than weakly twist against the bruising grip of the evil men around her, laughing and taunting, groping and leering.

The unseen baby’s screams only made the moment more surreal and somehow even more terrifying. That they could be performing such evil and depraved acts to the background noise of a child’s wail only made them more evil, more vile, less man and more beast.

_“Will somebody shut that fucking thing up?”_

_“Perhaps her mother should do it.”_

_“And leave you alone with my new favorite toy? Hardly, Antonin.”_

_“I-I’ll go.”_

_“No, Drakey, you stay right here.”_

_“Bloody hell, I’ll go!”_

_“The fuck you will! Go get your brother, I don’t want you within a yard of her.”_

“Hermione, what’s wrong?”

She struggled, kicking and twisting, moaning against the pain.

“What’s happening? What’s the matter with her?”

“I don’t know, I think she’s having another episode.”

“Episode? This has happened before? What do you mean?”

“No, I mean yes, but never like this, never where she’s like this. I don’t know what’s wrong, I need to get her to the hospital.”

“I’ll get the keys, Jean go get your shoes-”

“No, I’ll floo with her to Mungo’s. She sees a specialist there.”

“A specialist? How long has this been going on? Why haven’t you told us?”

“Not now, Richard! This is hardly the time for questions. Ron, take Hermione and go. We’ll wait with Rose.”

“No, I need to take Rose with us.”

“It’s alright, dear, we’ll take good care of her.”

“No, it’s not that. She’s got some related issue, that’s why she’s crying. They both need to be treated. Please, I know you hate the floo but-”

“Say no more. Richard, help Ron get Hermione downstairs. I’ll grab Rose.”


	16. Chapter Sixteen

**May 13, 2006**  
**West Brompton, London**

“Fucking useless piece of shite!”

Draco threw the screwdriver with full force into the pile of wood scattered before him. He’d spent the better part of two hours trying to get this damn crib assembled. Between subpar directions and mislabeled parts he was a heartbeat away from using his wand to finish the job. But he wanted the satisfaction of building it himself, knowing that his own hands put together the bed his child slept in each night.

Thanks to the fucking inferno the upstairs nursery had become and the cut on his finger he received while opening the box, his sweat, blood and soon to be tears had gone into assembling this thing and he’d be damned if he threw in the towel by resorting to magic now.

“How can it possibly be this complicated? I know much stupider people who have kids.”

He ran a hand over his face, sighing and leaning back to sprawl fully across the carpet and gaze blankly at the ceiling. He assured himself he was only taking a break, a moment's respite to ponder the rest of the nursery before resuming his all important, albeit frustrating work. This was a milestone, he wouldn’t stop until he’d built a crib for his first born son.

He cringed, automatically recalling the unspoken words. Not his first born son. He closed his eyes against the painful memory. He was doing that a lot lately, thanks to his newly restored mind that worked against itself, hellbent on its self destruction.

“Bloody Snape,” he grumbled under his breath, replaying their latest fight in his mind.

_“Draco, are you alright?”_

_“What do you think?”_

_“Don’t try to stand just yet, your balance will be off for the next-”_

_“Do me a favor and shut the fuck up for a few minutes.”_

_He heard his godfather sigh. As for Draco, his eyes were still closed, his weight slumped against the desk between them. His head was cradled in his hands, feeling as though it was expanding by the second. Surely it would explode, the pressure popping his eyes from their sockets and pulling his skull free of his spine until his head floated up to the ceiling like a stray balloon._

_But worse than the pounding, pulsating pain were the images dancing behind his closed lids, vivid as a muggle movie._

_He remembered. Everything._

_He attempted to swallow but his mouth had run dry, causing his words to sound more strained than they already felt._

_“She… is she… do you know if…?” He wasn’t sure what question or message he was trying to convey, but Snape seemed to interpret some meaning from the attempt._

_“I do not know where she is, or even if she is still alive.”_

_Draco forced his eyes open, if only to escape the memories of holding her, talking to her, staring into her uncomfortably powerful and hauntingly familiar eyes. The light in the room was blinding, causing him to squint and raise a hand to shadow his gaze._

_“How can you not know? How does a baby disappear?”_

_Snape’s face transformed into an expression he recognized as frustration. “She did just that. Disappeared.”_

_Draco raised a pale brow. The silence that followed made him shift in his seat. Something about Snape’s obvious hesitation didn’t bode well._

_“The last time I saw her, she was with Rodolphus.”_

_Draco straightened. There was a name he hadn’t heard or thought about in not nearly enough time. Certainly his uncle wasn’t as deplorable as his aunt, she set the bar for revulsion quite high. Still, he wasn’t someone Draco held a shred of fondness for._

_“He went on the run with her?”_

_Snape inhaled sharply through his nose, looking pointedly more predatory than Draco had seen in many years._

_“That is where the story gets somewhat more complicated.”_

Draco sighed and rolled up into a sitting position, cracking his neck and shifting his focus to the white wall. He hated fucking white walls. They felt like being trapped in an asylum. But choosing a paint color seemed a far more serious decision pertaining to the overall state of the nursery, one he didn’t want to make alone.

He had hoped seeing the assembled crib would inspire a sense of maternal longing in Astoria, enough to encourage her to participate in the remainder of the room’s setup. Or at the very least something to get her talking about the very up and coming birth.

Draco spent the last two hours trying to convince himself his motives were purely noble and this was in no way an elaborate distraction from the situation regarding his long lost cousin.

His cousin.

Fucking Salazar with a broom up his arse. He was having as much trouble wrapping his head around the situation as he did eight years ago when he first learned the Dark Lord sired a child with his aunt. Did that make Him… Merlin forbid… family? The very notion was sickening, more so than any of the horrors Daco had been forced to participate in or play witness to throughout the madman’s reign.

But worse yet, the child was missing.

Not knowing her location was terrifying, though Draco couldn't pinpoint why he felt the swelling of anxiety. Perhaps he feared the babe would grow up to follow in dear old dad’s footsteps, or worse yet, her mum’s. At what age did evil present itself? Before a child could walk? Talk?

That he was facing his own uncertainty as a soon to be father wasn't lost on Draco. His current situation perhaps allowed him a modified perspective on the situation that he certainly couldn’t have possibly had as a teen. Back then he viewed the babe as a beacon for despair and destruction. No matter her age her wickedness was inherent. How could it not be, with her parents being evil and madness personified? What hope did she have to grow up as anything but venomous when raised in a den of vipers?

But now Draco felt a swelling of emotion, something similar to holding his son for the first and last time, though paling greatly in comparison. A sense of fleeting hope and crushing loss, warring urges that the mind and body were helpless to make sense of.

A part of him wanted to care for the girl, this young innocent born into a world not of her making. Her entire life, her fate, preordained at the moment of conception. He sympathized greatly. His instinct was to protect the blood of his blood. But almost just as strongly his instincts told him to run, flee, abandon this outlet for evil before it gains enough strength and power to destroy everything he loves.

She wasn’t his to fix, mold or protect. He was better off destroying her before she had a chance to take up either of her parent’s destructive mantels. What other future could there possibly be for the progeny of Bellatrix Black and Voldemort?

He sighed deeply, running his hands through his hair. He had been going back and forth in his mind since regaining his memories. Overcome with bouts of panic and guilt and frustration, feeling crippled by his lack of control over the situation that seemed so pertinent to his family’s well-being. A small part of him wished he was still in the dark about the entire matter. Unbreakable Vow be damned.

But Snape had assured him he had a plan to help Draco escape the deadly, binding magic once and for all. A workaround, thanks to his godfather’s clever wording when casting the spell on the Dark Lord’s followers. Draco wasn’t surprised his longtime mentor was already thinking years ahead even back then.

Draco was onboard to free himself of the burden that threatened to pull him away from his family. But he wasn’t sure he agreed with Snape’s plan of execution. Namely, the man’s desire to employ the Ministry as a resource. The less he had to deal with Potter and his band of merry idiots the better off everyone would be.

He could tolerate Granger but he had long ago learned she was a package deal, just like in school when she always had her two bumbling fools in tow. Whatever work they did together would inevitably loop back to Potter, especially with her new position in the DMLE. And if there was one thing he was certain of it was that he didn’t want to involve the Golden Bloody Trio in this mess.

The situation was too deeply personal, whether because of the Vow or the fact that Delphi was his cousin he wasn’t sure, but his gut instinct was to go it alone. He didn’t delude himself into thinking he was trying to protect anyone but himself, the instinct to maintain the secret purely self serving, and not only due to the nature of the Vow. The entire ordeal made him feel an overwhelming sense of shame, similar to when the war first ended and every detail of his trial was drug through the press for everyone to see. He couldn’t go through the public ridicule again. Not when he’d worked so hard to restore his family name, not when his child was due to be born in a few short weeks.

No. He’d deal with the matter himself. He wasn’t going to risk some Skeeter wannabe catching wind of his plight and running another smear campaign. All it took was one idiot from the Ministry leaking his covert visits with The Boy Who Lived or the Gryffindor Princess and the public would explode in outrage. His face would be back on the cover of the Prophet, next to an enlarged recreation of the Dark Mark, forever attributed to his family name. And worse yet, someone could go snooping into the investigation and blow the entire thing, digging up his dark family secret as though pillaging a graveyard.

Of course that was what Snape wanted, to lead the little Auror mice to his trap, dropping little clues like bits of cheese without explicitly revealing anything. Once Delphi’s identity became public knowledge the Vow would become powerless, releasing everyone bound by its dark magic. Draco thought Severus put a great deal of faith into the idiot powers that be at the Ministry.

Not including Granger. Oh, he had no doubt she would blow the case wide open in no time at all, clues or no clues. The woman was more tenacious than anyone he’d ever met. But she’d know immediately that he was hiding something from her, sitting on a piece of information that was vital to the investigation. And once she smelled the duplicity she’d tear him apart, likely suspecting the worst. He imagined her look of accusation, the doubt in her eyes. He shook his head, grabbing the crumpled and discarded crib assembly instructions to distract himself.

He studied the illustrations blankly, not absorbing anything before sighing in resignation and tossing them aside once more. He ran a hand over his face in frustration. There was no hope for reprieve now that he had gone down the dark rabbit hole of his thoughts, the anxiety had seized him.

He was sixteen again, assigned the impossible task of murdering his Headmaster and feeling the noose tightening around his neck with each subsequent heartbeat. Time and hope were slipping through his fingers like a handful of sand. He was alone in this, positioned against impossible odds, left to walk the plank to his own destruction. His chest felt tight. He rubbed absently, trying to ease the dull ache.

He couldn’t believe this was happening. Again. After so many years spent on the other side, learning to appreciate the life he narrowly regained. It was once more being ripped out from under him. And he couldn’t even complain that it wasn’t fair, because deep down he knew this was what he deserved. After everything he had done, all the tragedy he had allowed to happen, he was never going to know true peace of mind. And his family would forever suffer because of it.

He couldn’t believe he had gotten married. How selfish. What the hell had he been thinking? That he deserved a shred of happiness? No. Men like him weren’t rewarded with happy endings. The Marked. The Damned. No wonder he and Astoria had suffered so while trying to conceive. It was the universe’s way of ensuring his seed didn’t spread to plague society any further than the previous Malfoy generations already had. What chance did his progeny have to lead happy, productive lives? The curse wasn’t tied to the Vow or any Dark Mark, it was in the blood. He was rooted in evil, just as his father and his father before him, just as his son would be…

He realized almost abstractly that his vision was dimming at the edges, his chest heaving to drag in air. He felt like an outsider noting observations about someone else’s body. He was looking in at himself, separate from the panic taking hold of his host. He could hear voices, faded and far off but coming in louder and clearer the more he focused.

He swallowed heavily when he recognized the scene playing out in his mind. It was nearly two years old but still of vivid clarity.

_“Prisoner 2465 entering.”_

_Draco scowled at the guard as he walked past with a smug look on his blemish ridden face. Draco detested these visits for several reasons, the staff’s treatment of him among them. He knew the majority of the self righteous arseholes in this place thought he should be behind bars, rotting away inside one of the filthy cells housed within._

_They made it a point to let their opinion be known at every opportunity, through scathing looks and snide remarks. Everytime he set foot on the premises his biggest regret in life was drug out and beaten like a dead hippogriff. It never failed to put him in a sour mood the remainder of the day._

_The large metal door opened and a figure appeared in the doorway, head downturned and face hidden behind a curtain of dirt caked blonde hair. Draco had learned months ago that one of the guards had withheld Lucius's bathing rights in an attempt to pressure the man into cutting his infamous long hair. Draco was outraged by the revelation, dead set on having a word with the assistant warden, Finnegan, one of the few employees who treated Draco with a shred of professionalism. But Lucius had been very adamant that Draco say nothing, less he make the situation more untenable._

_However it seemed the situation hadn’t improved on its own. Draco’s fists tightened under the table as he watched his father slowly make his way across the room with his wrists and ankles magically bound. Upon closer inspection the man’s prison garb appeared as filthy as his hair. He shook his head in outrage. To think society claimed the prison’s treatment of inmates had improved after the Dark Lord’s defeat. Ridiculous. Were people really that gullible or did they knowingly turn a blind eye to the neglect of these prisoners simply because they bore a Dark Mark?_

_He watched closely as his father took a seat opposite him, his movements slow and stilted, his face pinched in a look of acute discomfort though his jaw was set against making any sound. Finally his pale gaze lifted to meet his son’s. The silence that followed was absolute, the room becoming a black hole void of light and sound, rendering Draco deaf until it was broken by his father’s strained voice._

_“I am surprised to see you here.”_

_Draco sighed deeply, sparing a glance at the annoying fucking guard standing silent in the corner, though obviously eavesdropping._

_“May I have a moment alone with my father?”_

_The uniformed dolt smirked. “Sorry, new policy, no unsupervised visits.”_

_Draco scoffed. “Is that so? Let me guess, this policy change is implemented at your own discretion.”_

_The guard’s smirk was replaced with anger as he straightened. “What are you implying?”_

_“Having a bit of trouble understanding me? Perhaps I should speak slower, use smaller words.”_

_“You son of a-”_

_“Draco!”_

_His eyes snapped back to the man sitting before him, taken aback by his outburst._

_“Mind your tongue. There is nothing to gain by antagonizing the guards.”_

_Draco opened his mouth in outrage but couldn’t find the words to adequately convey his anger and disbelief._

_“Are you fucking kidding me?” He settled with instead, further agitated by his father's look of annoyance. “You’re defending the locusts responsible for the neglect that has you in this pitiful state?”_

_“Who you callin’ a locust?”_

_“Bloody hell, are you purposely this dense?”_

_“Draco, for Merlin's sake, is this why you came here?”_

_“No father, I came to spend quality family time together, visit a restaurant and perhaps take in an opera, what did you have in mind?”_

_Draco disregarded the guard who was still sputtering in outrage, fumbling for his wand._

_“Are you sure you want to do that?” He asked the man calmly, unable to stop his fingers from twitching, desperate to grab for his own wand that was confiscated at the gates. “If I’m not mistaken you’re one offense away from suspension, and I hardly think assaulting two unarmed men, one of which is a bound prisoner, will do your reputation any favors.”_

_The guard blinked, hesitating in his movements. “Wha… How did you…?”_

_“I have my sources. Do you really think I wouldn’t keep tabs on the men assigned to oversee my father’s well being? Just because something happens behind closed doors doesn’t mean it stays there. You've built up quite the reputation in the short time you’ve been here. Tell me, does it make you feel powerful to abuse those unable to defend themselves? I wonder what Finnegan would have to say about you drawing a wand on me and my father simply because you took offense to something I said.”_

_The guard opened and closed his mouth a few times, eyes wide and fearful, though whether he was afraid of getting in more trouble or still taken aback by the fact Draco was keeping tabs on him wasn’t for certain. Either way, Draco felt confident his threat had been received and dismissed the idiot, turning his attention back to the older man shaking his head in exasperation._

_“What?” He asked in annoyance._

_“Why do you always have to make a scene?”_

_“You call this a scene? Funny. I consider being dragged from the dining room by all four limbs with half the Ministry in attendance more of a scene, really. But perhaps our definitions differ. Like most things.”_

_Lucius sighed and leaned back into his chair._

_“What do you want, son? You obviously have something on your mind.”_

_Draco groaned and rolled his eyes, catching sight of the guard once more and feeling his hackles rise._

_“Seriously? You can’t give us five fucking minutes?”_

_“Leave it, Draco.”_

_“I’ll give you five thousand galleons for five minutes alone with my father.”_

_The guard blinked, glancing nervously between both men._

_“Don’t look at him,” Draco snapped. “I’m the one in control of the family fortune. What do you say? Five thousand to bugger off and go wank in the loo.”_

_“Honestly, Draco.”_

_“Fine! Bugger off and do whatever the fuck you want, but let’s be honest with ourselves, you’ll probably go wank-”_

_“Draco!”_

_“Are you for real?” The guard finally broke free of his trance. “Like, this isn’t a trick or something?”_

_Draco casually reached into his suit jacket’s hidden lining, pulling free his leather wallet._

_“No trick, just the opportunity of a lifetime. Getting paid to avoid doing your job, should be right up your alley.” He parted the inner compartment and slipped free a thick band of bills. “I just so happened to leave home with that exact sum. One never knows when they’ll need to solicit a bribe. Especially if you’re me.”_

_He handed over the cash and tapped his foot in annoyance when the guard took his sweet time walking over, clearly still unsure if it was an elaborate trap._

_“This is muggle currency.”_

_“That it is. I assure the exchange rate works out to five thousand galleons. I’m something of an expert on the subject.”_

_The guard studied the pile for a moment, seeming to have some sort of internal debate before finally pocketing the cash, just as Draco knew he’d do._

_“Five minutes.” He said, avoiding eyes contact before slipping out of the room and shutting the metal door soundly in his wake._

_Draco turned forward to once again face his father._

_“Well,” Lucius began, folding his hands on the table where his wrist binds were attached, “You’ve spent quite a pretty knut for this visit, I’m positively on the edge of my seat to hear what’s so important.”_

_Draco held his gaze. “I came to say goodbye.”_

Back in present day Draco rubbed the bridge of his nose, feeling a headache about to surface. His arse was sore from sitting on the ground for so long. He absently reached for his wand to cast a numbing charm when his hand wrapped around a piece of wood railing. He recalled his original mission, to assemble the crib. It felt like he’d been trapped in the nursery for days.

Trapped. He shook his head at his choice of words, feeling guilt pile onto the multitude of soul crushing emotions already raging within him. He wasn’t trapped in here, as his father was in Azkaban. Draco could leave anytime....

_Can I?_

He thought about the choices that had led him to the path he currently walked upon. There were so many times in his life he was well and truly trapped, confined by invisible walls with no escape in sight, his oxygen depleting rapidly and his fate sealed. It sickened him he could even think about comparing his current circumstances to the events of the past. Fatherhood was nothing like serving a homicidal megalomaniac.

_What a terrific start I’m off to, thinking my life is over just as my child’s life begins._

He sighed and scooted over to the wall, leaning his weight against it and dropping his head back. Try hard as he might he couldn’t shake his melancholy. Days ago he was excited about the prospect of parenthood, fueling his decision to purchase the crib and commit to assembling it by hand. He didn’t know how he slipped into the dark abyss, it didn’t even seem like these thoughts were his own. Perhaps Snape implanted the feeling of dread that now bled into every aspect of his life.

He shook his head, dismissing the notion as quickly as it popped in his head. They disagreed about many things but he knew with absolute certainty his godfather wouldn’t purposely harm him, little less put a dark cloud over his impending fatherhood. Snape was perhaps more excited about the upcoming birth than his own wife.

No, these cold feet were his own twisted creation. He was on the verge of ruining the one good thing he had left in his life, not that destruction was anything new to him. It was genetic. He only prayed he could raise his son to learn from Draco’s own mistakes.

He wasn’t surprised his thoughts drifted to his father once again, specifically the last time he spoke to the man. The memory haunted his dreams many nights over, try as he might to pretend indifferent to their estrangement. He closed his eyes, easily transporting himself back.

_“How kind of you to make the trip all the way up here just to tell me you’re no longer speaking to me.”_

_Draco rolled his eyes._

_“I didn’t want to stick mum with the responsibility of having to explain my future absence.”_

_“Ah yes, always thinking of your mother.”_

_Draco’s jaw tensed. “Well someone has to, seeing as her husband is incarcerated.”_

_“I’m sorry, Draco, would you like a medal commending your efforts looking after your own mother? After all she has done for you?”_

_“This isn’t about her! It’s about you. You have no idea what life is like for us, thanks to the legacy you’ve left behind. Our reputation is destroyed-”_

_“Come now, Draco. You’re a man grown, it’s time to start taking responsibility for your actions, your own choices.”_

_Draco slammed his hands onto the table and leaned in, barely restrained from leaping over to throttle the man. “My choices? Are you mad? I was sixteen! A child! How could I have possibly known what I was getting into? You are my father, it was your job to protect me!”_

_Lucius maintained his son’s wrathful glare with calm calculation, the heavy bags beneath his eyes casting their own shadows across his high cheekbones._

_“I am well aware of my shortcomings as a father and husband.” The words were spoken so succinctly, so intensely, Draco found himself bereft of words. He swallowed thickly and leaned back into his seat as Lucius continued, his mercurial gaze burning a hole straight through him._

_“My past is littered with regrets, allowing my only son to be Marked in the service of a madman the very greatest of them all. I will never be able to repent for my egregious mistakes, Draco, which is why I do not waste your or Narcissa’s time with pathetic apologies. Words will never be enough. And there is little I can do to regain your trust while confined to this hell. I can only assure you that once I am free I intend to spend every waking moment making myself into a man worthy of your and your mother’s affection. And though I don’t say the words, I promise you I feel unending shame and regret every waking moment, and every thought is dominated by the family I let down.”_

_The two men continued to stare at each other across the table for several long, tense moments. Draco was at a loss for words. After visiting his father at least once a month since his imprisonment a few years prior they had never had such a frank discussion. Truth be told, Draco couldn’t recall there ever being a time when Lucius was so open and honest. Perhaps Draco’s threat of never returning to the prison inspired the sudden bout of desperation._

_He shifted uncomfortably in the hard metal chair, averting his gaze to the table top. Lucius cleared his throat as though equally dumbfounded by the admission. Draco studied his hands folded before him, in a manner that unconsciously mirrored his father, for several tense beats before speaking, voice low and strained as though the words were being dragged out of him._

_“Why did you let him do it?”_

_He was relieved his father didn’t waste time by pretending confusion or asking for clarification. He couldn’t bear to prolong this particular conversation any longer than what was absolutely necessary. And getting answers was necessary. This particular wound had been festering for far too long, eating away at him night and day and poisoning him from the inside out._

_“I didn’t let him, Draco. I told him to do it.”_

_Draco’s head snapped up, eyes wide._

_“What?”_

_Lucius swallowed thickly, but to his great credit he held his son’s scornful stare._

_“I didn’t see any other way, Draco. I wanted to protect you but I was out of moves. When the Ministry offered you the deal I knew you wouldn’t take it. So I sent a message to Severus. It isn’t his fault. He was merely doing my bidding. I’m the one you should be mad at.”_

_“I’m furious at you both!” Draco yelled, slamming his fists onto the metal table with a jolt. “You had no right! No right! And just because you made the request doesn’t mean Snape had to go through with it!”_

_“Severus cares for you, Draco. You are his godson. He would do anything to protect you.”_

_“Bullshite! He was protecting his own arse!”_

_Lucius sighed and leaned back into his chair. “I can assure you, Draco, Severus is no stranger to self sacrifice. Imprisonment would be the least harrowing ordeal he’s been made to endure. He was acting in your best interest, nothing else.”_

_“Oh, and his getting to bypass Azkaban was just a footnote to the deal you made? You really think he’s that selfless? He used you father, he played on your desperation to disguise his self interest as some noble deed!”_

_“If that was the case then he would have approached me, Draco. I was the one who came up with the plan-”_

_“And you don’t think he’s capable of implanting the idea into your mind? He’s one of the most gifted Legilimens we know, probably alive, I don’t think it would be quite a feat.”_

_“Thank you for your faith in me, Draco. I am a dab hand at Occlumency.”_

_“Do you keep your shields up around him? Or do you save your energy for shielding out those you consider your enemies?”_

_Lucius shook his head and looked away. “Nothing I say will convince you.”_

_“That’s the smartest thing you’ve said in quite a while.”_

_Lucius looked back up, his pointed glare mirrored in his son’s expression._

_“You may not like me very much right now, but I am still your father and you will show me the respect I am due.”_

_Draco rolled his eyes. “Merlin, you never stop, do you? Shackled to a table in Azkaban looking like you’ve been trampled by a herd of giants and you still speak to me like I’m the disappointment.”_

_Lucius’s jaw tensed but he refrained from reacting further._

_“I don’t know how you manage to justify your actions in your mind. I don’t care,” Draco leaned in closer, his voice lowering to almost a growl, “But I am long past the point of giving a shite. You’re just as toxic as Snape is, and I want you both out of my life. I can’t stop mother from seeing you, but I can certainly keep you away from my family. Tori and I are trying for another baby. I don’t want you poisoning my child as you poisoned me.”_

_He shoved against the table, pushing his chair back and leaping to his feet as though electrified. He moved swiftly to the closed door, banging a closed fist three times against the metal. A shuffling sound could be heard from the otherside. Draco continued to face the wall, ignoring his father’s deep sigh. Just as he was certain Lucius was about to speak the door swung open and the guard appeared, glancing nervously between the two men._

_“Your five minutes isn’t up.”_

_“We’re done.”_

_The guard peered up at Draco. “You ain’t gettin’ your money back.”_

_“Do I look put out? I would happily pay twice that just to be free of your presence.”_

_The guard’s eyes widened as he subtly leaned closer, a look of excitement on his face as his gaze dropped to where Draco kept his wallet._

_“My, my, you are a greedy little rat, aren’t you?”_

_The guard's expression fell into a scowl. Draco smirked. “I think I’ve been more than generous already. I’m done with you now.” He paused, glancing over his shoulder at the man still chained and watching him steadily. “I’m done with both of you.”_

“Draco?”

Draco’s eyes shot open and he leaned forward away from the wall. He quickly glanced around, his heart beating wildly as he took in his surroundings. Pieces of the crib were scattered everywhere and a sudden panic seized him. He felt as though he was caught in the middle of a bloody crime scene, holding the murder weapon behind his back. He barely had time to swallow before Astoria was rounding the corner and entering the room.

She stopped dead in her tracks before breaching the threshold. Her citrine eyes took in the scene, glancing at each wood slat and loose screw before landing on Draco in the center. Her expression was carefully void of any discernable emotion, but her hands were curled into fists at her side, the knuckles slowly turning white.

His mind was racing too fast for any one thought to solidly form. Still, he felt his mouth open and words tumble out.

“Tori. You’re home early.”

She blinked once before her pale brows drew together. “What is this?”

He glanced down and examined his surroundings as though just now noticing the mess. “This is… I, ah… earlier today I thought, I…” he ran a hand through his hair, internally cursing his cowardice. He sighed deeply and closed his eyes, digging into his last reserves of strength. “It’s a crib, Tori.”

She stared at him in silence until he couldn’t stand the tension. He pushed aside a piece of railing and slowly staggered to his feet, groaning as his muscles burned from the renewed circulation. “Please say something.”

She pursed her lips and looked away, eyes narrowing and a flush of color staining the porcelain skin of her neck and cheeks.

“I… I don’t…” she muttered.

He leaned in closer to hear, holding his breath. She looked back up, gaze sharp and unyielding.

“How could you?” her voice was as venomous as her stare.

“What?” he rose a brow, unconsciously rearing back.

“I said how could you!”

He blinked, a sudden warmth washing over him, making him see red.

“How could I build a crib for my son who is due in a month? Are you really that heartless, Tori? How can you still not give one shite about this pregnancy or our family? What the bloody hell is wrong with you?”

He knew he was yelling but he didn’t care, and apparently she didn’t either. His wife was normally a shrinking violet, passive aggressive to such an extreme he usually felt like a barbarian for even raising his voice. But today she seemed as revved for a battle as he was, glaring daggers and marching right up to scream in his face.

“How dare you accuse me of not giving a shite when you’re the one jepordizing everything! I told you I didn’t want to build the crib yet, I begged you to leave the nursery alone, and yet here you are, risking our child’s life like the selfish prick you are!”

He felt every vein in his body throb painfully, his skin tightening across his back as though he might tear right through it like tissue paper, revealing the beast living inside, raging to get out.

“What the fuck are you on about? How the hell is decorating the nursery jeopardizing the baby?”

She raised her hands swiftly as though about to slap him and he braced himself for the impact. She’d never become physically violent before, but he’d never seen her in such a state and was prepared for anything. Instead she raised her hands to her head and grabbed two fistfuls of golden blonde hair, pulling from the roots as she continued her tirade.

“Are you really so fucking daft?”

He reared back as if struck, shocked not by her insult but her use of a swear word. He’d never heard her utter such a phrase in his life. What with her fair appearance and gentile upbringing she held a somewhat disturbing likeness to his mother. Except for her personality. Whereas his mother was rigid in her stubbornness, never one to back down without a fight, Tori always sought to compromise before an argument could gain steam. She was a blade of grass in the wind, flexible and blowing in whatever direction necessary, while Narcissa was the reed that would snap before bending.

But suddenly, in that very moment, Tori seemed more like her mother-in-law than ever before. Draco swallowed, unsure where this fight was headed but feeling a sudden ominous presence seep into the room, a dark cloud hovering above them. Before he could process the feeling his wife continued on.

“As soon as we acknowledge the pregnancy something bad happens. Every fucking time! Which is why I begged you to please not make the same mistakes as we made before! Like getting our hopes up by setting up the fucking nursery too soon. But no, you can’t even respect my wishes and do that!”

She was vibrating with rage, her face splotchy with red and the vein at her temple throbbing. He blinked, taken aback by the image she made and the words she had aimed at him like knives. His anger was forgotten in the wake of confusion.

“You really think that our excitement over the pregnancies caused them to terminate?”

She huffed, crossing her arms over her chest like a shield. “You don’t think I know how ridiculous that sounds? I’m not an idiot. I know it’s crazy. It doesn’t make it any less true.”

Draco ran a hand over his face, wiping away a sheen of perspiration. “Tori, the pregnancies failed because of health complications-”

“You don’t know that! The Healers could never pinpoint what went wrong, only speculate. Their guess is as good as ours!”

“So you think jinxing the pregnancies by building a crib is a likely outcome?”

“When it comes to magic yes I do!”

He shook his head and rubbed at the back of his neck. “Why didn’t you talk to me about this before? Months ago? Or after Saros-”

“Don’t talk about him!”

Draco jolted, his chest aching as though punched dead center.

“He’s as much mine as he was yours. I can talk about him whenever I want.”

“Why? Why talk about something that only hurts? That feels like death everytime you think about it?”

He swallowed thickly. “Because it happened, Tori. Because he’s our son and deserves to be talked about, to be celebrated and cherished even in death. He mattered, and I want to remember him. Not sweep his memory under the rug like a dirty secret!”

She shook her head, the light reflecting off the tears streaming down her cheeks. Her beauty charms were wearing thin in her distress, causing makeup to run in rivulets from her dark lashes to her chin.

“Is that what you think he was to me? A dirty secret? How can you think so little of me? Why did you even-” she stopped shouting abruptly, her eyes widening and a look of sheer terror crossing her face.

Draco reached for her instinctually, grabbing her outstretched hand and stepping closer.

“Tori? What’s the matter?”

He felt a wave of panic seize him, that ominous dark cloud no longer hovering but bursting forth to envelop them in a dark abyss.

She didn’t speak but continued to stare at him in silent horror, her gaze piercing right through him as though knowing he was helpless to save her. He let go of her hand to seize her upper arms. His anger from moments before long forgotten. Her sudden and absolute silence so much worse than her screaming and cursing.

“Tori, for Circe’s sake, speak to me!” he gently shook her for emphasis.

She blinked, the jolt seeming to awaken her from the disturbing trance. She met his eyes once more, briefly, before lowering her gaze to rest on her large swollen belly. He followed the tortuously slow descent, staring at her stomach as well. Nothing seemed amiss, and he was about to voice as much when he realized her attention was fixed someplace lower.

Her stomach blocked the view of her feet, and the puddle of liquid in which she stood.

The panic seized his chest once more, his heart drumming so loudly he almost didn't hear her panicked whisper.

“My water broke.”


End file.
